#n then could barely stop .. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 1 month ago

Text

To Have Your Eyes - T.F.

Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro - strong, hot, and your steadfast personal knight. And his duty to the crown means that Toji should…help the princess he’s always loved with obtaining an heir, right? Right?

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, knight!Toji, ROYAL AU, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, arranged marriage, Naoya gets NTR-d, PlNING, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, improper uses of armor, thigh ríding, dry húmping, matíng presses, BRÉEDING, dúmbifícation, marathons, D slipping, he’s BIG, size kínk, tummy buIges, cúmflation, slight exhíbitionísm, forbidden Iove, not actually unrequited, Undressed by Sombr references, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k (wow)

A/N. TO HAVE THE EYES OF THE GIRL I WON��T FORGEEET-

“Q-quite a grand affair- wasn’t it, sir?”

Toji lets out a gruff, noncommittal grunt in response, seconds away from rolling his damn eyes as he listens to the newly-stationed recruit babble on and on about ‘seeing a royal wedding up close.’

Toji Fushiguro has always known that he didn’t deserve you - no one did.

No prince, nor duke, but particularly not that prissy, pompous Zenin heir you’d supposedly been betrothed to since birth. What was his name-

“Naoya!”

Ah, yes. Toji’s scarred lips curl when he watches the prince slam the staggering mahogany doors of your royal room open, stomping down the winding hallway in all his sour-faced glory. Not quite Prince Charming if you asked him.

“Ijichi-” He sends a sharp nod to the bespectacled knight, signalling him to follow the heir. As much as he hated the brat, it wouldn’t do to widow you so soon- especially not on your wedding night.

And with that, Toji goes where it’s most important - to you.

As the metallic padding of his armor clanked! with each determined step, so did the ringing thought that if anything - absolutely anything - had happened to you, he would kill that damn Zenin boy. Prince or not.

Treason or not.

He didn’t climb and elbow and fight his way through the ranks of knights to become your very own personal guard for nothing. From the very moment he’d met you, his duty was to you.

As was his heart.

Though, that last sentiment didn’t matter much - not when he was nothing but your lowly protector.

Completely out of place in the decadent, dimly-lit chamber of your bedroom; it was sprawling, and the entire Keep where knights slept would take up about only half the size of your chamber. It was obvious that this place was readied for the newly-wed couple - a faint mist of flowery fragrance clouding the air, white sheets so sheer that they looked like phantoms fluttering in the moonlight, and you.

You, seated on the center of your plush mattress, still dolled-up in your gauzy ivory wedding dress. Looking as angelic as ever- though, when have you not?

To Toji, it was routine to snap his jade eyes away from whom he never could have.

Throat slightly rusty with hoarseness as he whispers, “My princess?” Before shaking his head free of any more of those stupid notions of ‘his.’ “You alright, princess? Must I slay a haughty royal neck tonight?”

That, at the very least, seemed to get a watery chuckle out of you as he’d wickedly hoped. Then you’re finally turning-

And oh, Toji thinks he might do very well to fulfill his promise of bringing you the head of your so-called new husband.

Because right there - in the corner of your gorgeous face that he’d grown up admiring through every year, every emotion - was a singular, silvery tear track. Glittering in the rays of moon, Toji can’t stop himself from the way his body viscerally wrenches a step forward-

-before you hastily wipe away the evidence of your sorrow before he can. Fighting to keep your sweet voice even, “Oh, don’t bother, Toji. Naoya just seems to be having a…bad day?”

He narrows his eyes- you were unhurt, at the bare minimum. Though, that won’t stop him from bribing the kitchen staff into overloading that damn Naoya’s meals with a bucket of salt from now onwards.

“Tch, the worst date to have a ‘bad day’. Don’tcha think, princess?”

“You’re telling me.” Throwing your hands up in exasperation, the silky sleeves of your wedding dress ripple as you huff. And Toji takes a few guilty moments to memorize the vision, one he never thought he would see.

It’s only with how long you two had known each other that you’re not bothering with any plastic court manners as you pull your knees to your chest. Groaning in quite an unlady-like way, “And all because I simply asked him to help me take these damn laces off-”

“The bastard ran out because of that?” Toji suddenly interrupts, jaw slightly sagging as he dares to take a peek at the mass of ribbons and strings knitting the back of your stuffy dress together.

Honestly- years in the royal palace and he still didn’t understand what it was with you people and these damn layers.

Your embarrassed silence was enough of an answer, and Toji’s bowing. “If I may-” Letting his gloves drop to the polished marble floor with a clunk! “No, I will if he won’t. Turn around.”

Slightly yelping, you’re letting yourself be tugged closer to the edge of the bed once Toji walks his way ‘round. Gruff, grouchy, and yet he was still making gentle work with your frilly back - unplucking you free, one by one.

“He said this was a woman’s work.” You sigh over the whoosh–! of creamy white ribbons being loosened from your outer corset. Lips twitching, “And I asked him if he’d rather I spent my wedding night with a woman, then.”

“Ya think? Anyone would be better than that pig-headed, brutish, fucking-”

“Language, Sir Toji.”

“Tch.”

As the last of your stringy restraints are untied, you have to bite back a moan at the roughened padding of Toji’s fingertips. Dexterous digits digging into where your muscles were tender from being cooped up like this all day, “You’re…surprisingly talented at this- practiced much, Toji?”

“Been watching you get dressed since I came to this palace, princess, don’t underestimate me.” He’s growling, and if the very tips of his ears burned at the thought of being the one undressing you - on your wedding night, of all things - then, well, he’s only glad the flickering chamber candles were too dim for you to tell.

“O-oh shut up.” You’re scoffing at the way Toji leers. Eyes darting anywhere but his and falling on- ah, your bed.

Your very un-mussed, very un-desecrated bed.

“Oh.”

Toji perks alert instantly, “Did I hurt-”

“No no–” Waving him off, “It’s just…the bed.” And as his face tilts in confusion, you feel a slight twinge of envy at the way he wasn’t aware of this particular royal custom.

Sighing, you pinch the plain sheets between your fingers. “The sheets- tomorrow morning, the courts will check and see that the marriage hasn’t been consummated. Of course, they’ll blame me for not trying hard enough to secure an heir. And I don’t trust my lovely husband to be over with his tantrum by then, so…”

Oh.

The realization strikes - as do those words slip-

“I can help with that.”

Toji thinks he’s about to pass out- no, he thinks he’s already dead.

Because, surely, he was in heaven right now?

Or as close to heaven as he possibly could be - because with only a nod of yours, within only a few minutes he’s between your legs, kneeled at the very foot of your bed. The circles of his nostrils flaring in sweet, sweet anticipation the nearer he’s dragging his straight nosebridge in a meandering line towards your hot core.

Sniffing a deeeep few lungfuls of your body, your cunt’s saccharine aroma. Baritone so primally guttural n’ wet, “And yer sure? This isn’t just you talking out of- her?”

You’re whimpering once the honed, gleaming edges of his canines punctuate that last word by sinking into your drenched panties, gnawin’ until he lets it fall back with a sharp snap! that makes your heated skin sting.

You’re so wet that your inner thighs were gluing together with a thin sheen now, letting off the most sticky plap! of flesh-on-flesh as Toji throws one leg over his broad shoulder. The other pushed and pushed and pushed to spread apart with one of his rugged palms.

Hips squirming restlessly on your ancient bedsprings, “I’m positive. H-how bad can it really be?”

“Oh, princess, it won’t be bad.” The edges of Toji’s lips stretch at the way he hasn’t even started, and yet, you were already stuttering oh-so-cutely. The thickened curve of his thumb thumps against the top of your cunt, dragging a sultry touch down, down, doooown your sopping slit.

His eyes widen at the way it makes that flimsy fabric of your undergarments drench with a lil’ puddle of slick. And Toji feels his mouth water, “But don’t you take me for some priggish, posh prince that won’t eat out such a pretty pussy.”

“H-how crass!”

“Heh- if you think that’s crass…” Your knight doesn’t finish his sentence, only hooking a roaming index underneath the hemline of your panties.

Toji bores his half-lidded eyes straight into yours when he tugs- when he rips your starchy white underwear off. Absolutely nothing against his monstrous strength as your personal guard— “Skirts up.”

And you’re barely registering his grunted words fast enough to pull your numerous inner layers up to your heaving chest, barely on time before Toji jerks his head slightly back and spits.

Straight onto his target of your pussy, it cakes such a warm layer of sap that trickles down n’ in between your puffy folds.

“Messy giiirl–” He’s more than happy to spank the pad of his thumb down on your swollen entrance and smear the glossy mess. “Hidin’ this away under all those layers. How dare you.”

Prying the edge of your cunt open just enough so that he could sneak a teasing look at your sloppily soaked hole.

Toji’s scorching hot breath hits your skin in gusts once he’s leaning closer, nibbling on your fleshy pussylips until you whine. “O-oh my- s’it always this rude when one does…this?”

“No.” Gurgling out those syllables right where you were the most sensitive, he’s toying with you. Playing. Driving you mad with the tickling sensation of his scarred lips latching nose-deep into your pussy, “Just me.”

You buck, you keen, you spray him in even more gooey wads of slick that slip n’ slide riiight down Toji’s throat. And he stays there, maw agape so that you could watch each slithering trailway he drinks up like a man parched.

Like he was thirsting for water for years before coming across your leaking pussy, Toji spanks the underside of his palm against your cunt and makes you still.

“Now now-” Non-dominant hand latching to your waist to help you hold still, your knight snarls. “Enough runnin’, tell me what you want, princess.”

You claw desperately at the shaggy black strands of his bangs, a shrilling noise escaping you that you’ve never made before. Pulling him- “Want it, Toji. For you to do the…thing.”

“Ah ah-” Oh, he was having sooo much fun making his pretty royal beg for him like this. “The what? Didn’t you take all those ngh- elocution lessons, hm?”

Pulling away, in response your breath hitches with what sounds like a strangled sob, and it’s enough to make his aching cock twitch. Mindlessly humping the bulging outline of his girth against the cool wood of your bed frame, “Like my mouth?” Rubbin’ the line of his scar up and down your cunt, “My scar?”

Nodding and nodding because that’s all you can do, he watches on with a hooded gaze at the way your legs twitch with need.

Lengthy tongue flopping out even further, your mouth drops ever-so-slightly as you take in how long he was. And he was going to use that? Slathering the very edge of his temperate muscle over your folds, “Then uuuuuse- your-” Pokin’ his nubbed end just back in between your soppy lips to make you bawl- and right out again. “-words.‘

“P-please!”

“Hmm–?”

“Please-” Tears bubble up by the corners of your eyes, and your chin drops down to your chest as you wail out the rude, un-ladylike answer he’s been dying to hear these past few minutes. Past few years, really. “-e-eat me out?”

He was ruining you.

And did your command even have to be a question with the way that Toji was instantly diving his face between your trembling legs like his life depended on it.

Swirlin’ the textured buds of his tongue smack-dab on top of your swollen, sensitive folds to give you a goood, long lick. Once - just a taste before he pulls away with a short ‘fuck’, before surging back in.

Twice, before- thrice, he was addicted.

Smack after smack of his dewy wet lips that were simply drippin’ wet with all your juices, Toji’s gluing his maw against your core and sucking you all in.

He’s fighting to keep his verdant irises from rolling all the way back, he couldn’t even bring himself to even breathe before smushing his handsome features between your legs.

Gulping, “So fuckin’ sweet, princess. Sweeter than any wedding cake.” Toji’s knees go weak at the syrupy wet taste of you splashing on his tongue. “N’ I haven’t eaten allll day.”

And it wasn’t anything innocent - nothing sweet about it - you’re feeling the slimy tip of his tongue ease out further from between his puckered lips and swipe the dewy droplets of slick back into your hole.

Filling up your entrance with his fat girth until the only thing you were cutely clenching ‘round was his tongue. Your mouth shapes into a soft circle as he starts thrashing his dextrous tongue all the way back n’ forth. “Ngh- ngh, fuck, Toji. It f-feels so…”

Fuck- not even the gossip of the court ladies talked about it being this good.

“Ohhh– what’s that? Using such expletives, where are your manners, hm?”

You’re fisting the expensive coverings of your bed as the tender, velvety underside starts scraping along just where you were fountaining out beads of slick the most. Toji’s high cheekbones hollow out with a slurp as he pumps his tongue in furiously. “How can I have manners when- oh fuck!”

Surprising yourself with the sheer carnal need that was seeping into your voice, your hazed pupils travel in circles inside of your eyes in synchronized tempo with his swirlin’ tongue. Rough, rugged.

“Tha’s it- that’s it.” Toji has the audacity to knock his pointed chin against the base of your cunt and snicker, spitting out yet another stringy wad of saliva that makes your pussy glisten damply. Splat! “Any louder and the entire hah! palace is gonna hear, princess.”

“And whose fault is that- oh!”

“Yours.” He answers, simply.

Already having located your swollen, perky clit and giving it a playful bite. Your spine arches back into the soft blankets as you see fucking stars, clawing through his sweaty scalp. “I-I should admonish you for cheek, Sir Toji.”

“Go on, then.” His gravelly tone was dangerous, sounding oh-so-vulgar from down below once Toji’s plastering his mouth in an open-mouthed smooch against your cunt and prying your pussy further open.

Breath hitching, his prolonged middle finger tugs on your swollen folds and slips just the plush pad in. Groaning at just how wet n’ ready you were for him, “Tell me to stop.” Stretch-stretch-stretching your snug entrance around his bullying digit, “Hmm– command me, princess.”

Sloppy and aching.

Eating you out like he was starved, you’re barely given the time to catch your breath.

Damn near crying out by the time he’s scouring your glossy folds with the curvature of his finger. So big that Toji’s reaching every geysering nook and cranny without even trying– “I-I– fuck! More-”

He gasps, “More?”

“M-more.” Your chin slaps stupidly against the treacly puddle of drool on your chest, one you didn’t even realize was there before. Hazily lidded eyes blinking down at him, “More, please?”

Even when you were this gone, you still used your adorable manners.

And that fact was enough for Toji to slip his free hand between his legs and massage the mountainous plane of his palm down on his throbbing length. Snaking a hand between his trousers, he silently thanked the wedding dress code for making it so that he didn’t need to wear his full metal armor today.

“My cute princess wants more. You- do you even know what you’re haaaa- asking for?” Toji pants - he heaves. Your cunt singing out a carnal squelch! as he’s crowning just the tip of his nimble index past your filthy hole.

Nearly the entirety of his upper weight crushing your body to the bed, movements jittery with desperation. He’s suckling on your clit like his favorite gummy whilst stretchin’ out your glutinous insides as if he was trying to mold you to his each shape.

Tracing your mushy channel in zig-zagged lines, the bed creaks each time you’re bucking to follow his lecherous movements. “D’you even know what I can do? How much I can streeeetch this tight pussy out?” Squeezing in another finger, he’s rawly opening up your cunt with crazed thrusts. “How much I’ve yearned-”

And more to shut himself up than anything, Toji stuffs his mouth full of your pretty lil’ clit. Craning his neck to let him drag his unfastened mouth over n’ over in slobbering drags.

Letting your restless hips ride his features, “O-ohhh Toji– it feels so good.” You mewl, your entire body burning after each knocking thrash of his barreling fingers.

He had three- three of them inside you. Slick, glissading, searching.

“Promise to hah- scream my name, princess.” He pipes up, still salivating all down your slit with ribbony wires of spittle that start formulating a puddle beneath you. Sexily-placed scar rubbing a lecherous massage as the curling tip of his tongue draws a few hearts on your clit. Like he was strangely…distracting you. Before-

“T-Toooji! There! There-”

He strikes your g-spot, mercilessly.

Whack after whack he’s pushing until the knobbled bumps of his knuckles are rawly red, poking into your deepest depths.

“Yeahhh- just like that, atta girl.” Toji utters on your tender, wet pussy and you see stars. Circling cartoonishly around and around your head while he keeps on probin’ your favorite spot.

A place you’d only read about in those steamy romance novels your attendants smuggled, and now your knight was treating it like some cute glossy button he kept on squishing. The steady pushes of his digits bruising a few circumferences onto that spot, he was leaving your head feverishly empty.

And you can feel his smug smirk on your pussylips, faltering ever-so-slightly when he’s twitching in his hands.

Oh, Toji could cum from just this.

Forced to dab the heavy padding of his thumb over his weeping divot, he knits his dark brows and tries to make sure that this was real. That he really had you like this - all whimpering and drooling with both pairs of pretty lips, the crevice of your mouth opening with the loudest, most broken sob of- “Feels so strangeee–” Hips jutting, “I’m close.”

“F-fuck.” And if his voice broke on that last line, you were too far gone to recognize it. Like a madman, he’s twisting his mouth to now drink in all of you.

Everywhere from the puffed-up nub of your clit, to where your sappy entrance was bulging with all of him. All his rummaging size that dug against your delicate sweet spots, Toji was kissin’ you everywhere and anywhere.

Until his mouth burned, and your thighs quaked. “G-gonna…I’m gonna-” You’re croaking out, throat turning husky every time his tongue rolled over your clit, snaking up and down your folds.

“Cum- cum on my tongue, princess.” Toji bores his dilated green gaze straight up at you as he grins. Lovingly. Pussydrunken. “That’s an order.”

And then you cum- and it’s right all over his mouth like he’d hoped.

All down his tongue. Pooling at the back of his raping throat. Thick, splashing waves of sap that he’d love to drown himself in - to drown himself in your sweet, orgasming pussy.

Toji’s riding you through each peak of your high on the dot, slashing his tongue in a slanted drag across your clit repeatedly. It’s such a primal back n’ forth that leaves your hips slamming back into his mouth.

Voice wavering, it takes you a few seconds to blink away the blotches of pure white staining your vision. “Th-that feels so–” Still suffering from each ravaged shake that wrecks you, “Wait- are you…”

And as your vision finally clears just the slightest bit, you’re catching the sight of Toji’s beefy arm disappearing underneath your bed posts. Moving to and fro angrily–

“Nothing to w-worry about, princess.” His smoky croon makes the line of your spine shiver, lavishing your cunt with another polish of his mouth. Allll the way up to your pulsing clit, he gives your g-spot another merciless thump. “Nothing to worry about at- fuck-”

He might be the strongest of all your knights, but he can’t handle this.

Can’t handle you looking so damn dazed on his tongue, twitching with even the tiniest graze over your sweet spots. Tearing out of your pretty pussy all for him - that he can’t help but reach his high.

And Toji wasn’t going to let it go to waste, no- in a quick split-second, he’s forcing himself from his kneeled position at the edge of the bed and hiking a meaty thigh beside your hips. Straddling you with all his bulky bodyweight, grabbing ahold of his reddened fat cock as he cums.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” He’s nibbling down on his rosy lower lip and still can’t hold back the sheer amount of moans that escape him.

Your eyes widen at the voluminous droplets of seed dribbling from that circular end of his shaft, throbbing and glittering with wiry strands of cum clinging to him. “Th-there’s so much, Toji.”

Head slouching forwards- “S’all for you, princess.” Toji’s orgasm hits him like a damn carriage, and it’s pure adoration to keep on creaming himself to the way you looked underneath him that he isn’t simply collapsing on top of you right now.

Whimpering, your cunt starts throbbing needily once more at the splatters of syrupy ivory sap staining your sheets now. Making a mess.

Husking, “S-s’all-” Still airy n’ half-lidded, Toji moves as if he’s in a dream when he creeps his cherry-red tip towards your plush lips. Inch by inch. Toned hips moving forward, toes curling as his angry cock cums even more– “-for you.”

“Oh- mmmm—” You’re looking up at him through your lashes once the last few pearly droplets of seed trickle down to your maw like a white gloss, mouth all full. Toji’s mushroom tip was as pink as a strawberry and just as massively thick, scraping your jaw with the puffy edges of his veins.

Finally stealing a proper look at him, he just looked so attractive with your slick sparkling on his chin. Plastering a wet gleam all the way from the tips of his cheeks down his sharp jaw.

Just dripping wet - he was wearing the mess he’d made of your pussy like a medal.

“Oh. Oh.” Toji’s dark pupils dilate, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he had heart eyes. Shuffling further down to give your soaked mouth a looong, thorough kiss. His first, in fact, that he’s been saving for either you or no one. Not that he would tell you that. “Congratulations on the wedding.”

You’re whining, as if you’d just remembered what today was. “And what about the problem of an heir?”

“O-one thing at a time, princess. Besides…”

Toji didn’t have to finish his sentence for you, too, to register what his keener ears had picked up. The distant thundering of footsteps-

“They’re back.”

And just as soon as he’d arrived, he was gone.

A fever dream that never happened- or, at least, Toji would never believe it happened if not for the cloying treacly taste of you still sticking to his lips. And if Ijichi arrived alone, with Naoya still in the throes of his tantrum, and sleeping over at some other ward of the palace - well, he may have just cracked a smile.

“What a great affair today- eh, Ijichi?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Naoya accepted your explanation of using oils to trick the court into thinking the marriage was consummated, but what wasn’t accepted was the fact that weeks had passed and you still weren’t with child.

With an heir.

And right now the pressure from the court was crushing–

“You must understand, my lady. You’re already at that age, and our majesties aren’t getting any younger!”

“Quite right quite right, an heir- if we can have an announcement before the upcoming ball-”

“It is imperative we have a newborn soon. Our enemies will see this as a weakness-”

“Right, and I believe Naoya will attend to that.” You’re throwing a bored glance at the way your husband lounged near the end of the council table. Stood tall, and aloof with power. And you didn’t mean just the matters with your kingdom’s enemies, Naoya hadn’t even tried to touch you since that night.

To which you’ve been quite grateful, frankly.

You cringe at the thought of what this arranged marriage may come to, and the fact that there was certainly no way Naoya could even hold a candle to how good Toji was-

No, subtly, you’re shaking your head. You couldn’t be thinking about these sorts of things during an official advisory meeting - especially not when your personal knight stood guard right beside your bejeweled chair.

“-and his highness Naoya was so passionate on your wedding night.” Tuning back into the important conversation at hand, you’re almost regretting it.

The elder that’d just spoken up sounded almost giddy with excitement, and you’re realizing - at his red-blotched cheeks - that he must have been part of the group to assess your bedsheets on the morning after your wedding night.

Plowing on, almost conspiratorial, “I mean- the way those fine silks were torn- surely you must try harder, my lady, to replicate that night. Otherwise we might have to consider additional royal consorts.”

Beside you, you’re feeling Toji’s towering figure stiffen- recreating that night with Naoya was the last thing he wanted. And he’s growling out through his helmet before he can control himself, “We have no ongoing wars. We have no rebellions. I’d say we’re quite at peace without rushing the princess, minister.”

“And who gave you permission to speak, knight?”

Oh, you don’t have to look up to know who seethed.

The shards of vicious ice cutting through his voice was enough for you to already envision the glare that Naoya was sending Toji’s way. “And you’re one of the lower-born ones- a peasant, are you not? Aren’t you the one that had to get on your knees and beg to be able to take training?”

Toji grits his teeth so hard he tastes rusted metal, “I am.”

“So it is much above you to even breathe so loud during a meeting such as this- is it not?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you butt in like some- some lover when we talk of her duty-”

“Because my duty is to the princess you impotent lout.” Toji’s voice was thunderous, making the long wooden table tremble and the court advisors to hold onto their breath. You were quite sure you saw at least one faint.

And Toji would let anyone mouth off against him - but one word against you and he would stand up to the king that knighted him himself. Nevermind some arrogant prince who couldn’t count the blessings he had.

A prince who, he was sure, was on the verge of bursting right now.

Face an unseemingly shade of red, veins popping, mouth spitting with what were surely punishments–

“I will remind you, husband-” Your voice speaks up, with all the regal authority that half this court wouldn’t be able to muster up. And every head snaps to you as if watching a particularly complex jousting competition. Your eyes narrow down at Naoya, “-that you are not king, yet.”

It didn’t even matter if he was - you would still not allow him to lay a hand on your steadfast knight.

And there was nothing more to say.

Gingerly, the senior advisor, Gakuganji, is slamming down the tiny golden gavel to adjourn the court session. And every huffy elder nearly tumbles out of their seat to escape the stifling tension between you three.

“You-” Naoya declares, as he stands up. With a jolt, you realize that he’s glaring venomously at none other than Toji. “I might not be king but I am next in line. And you shall do well to stay away from my wife-”

Those razor-sharp eyes now falling on you, and even though Toji’s body moves- his heart can’t help but ache at the fact that he had no right to stop the future king - your husband - from daring to look at you with anything but love. Suspiciously, “-or else.”

In a flutter of velvety capes, Naoya is dragging his court entourage off - each one undoubtedly buzzing to gossip outside about the scandal of your knight as they slam the door behind them.

And then, you’re alone.

It’s tough to be alone with someone as princess - always in the presence of elders, guests, or subjects - and this is the first time the two of you have been together in a room, unsupervised, since…that night.

Toji’s mouth runs dry at his blatant disrespect- not only did he have to embarrass you, but he had made you fall within Naoya’s line of sight so vile. “My p- princess, I am sorr-”

“Touch me.”

Fuck.

It’s only once your face breaks out into a tentative smile that he’s realizing he might have just said that out loud. And you’re standing- walking, cornering him, “Well…if you really want to, Sir Toji.”

“But your husband…”

And he didn’t really care for that prince, he only cared for what they might say about you if anyone saw. If anyone knew-

“Since when—” You’re drawling, eyes dipping lower. He really was oh-so-sculptured in his armor, all broad lines and chiseled curves. And it made the thin silk of your dress rub lewdly when you’re clenching your thighs, “-have we cared about him?”

Suddenly, you’re getting a demonstration on why exactly Toji Fushiguro was the fittest of all your knights - the one chosen specifically for you.

Because your back hits the frigid coldness of the table before the recognition hits you- as soon as you blink, as soon as you can gasp, Toji’s lifting you clean off the ground and sprawling you out so prettily.

Right then and there in the middle of the meeting hall.

The velvety fabric of your dress draping across half the chairs, legs flying up into the air in such an unroyal way until Toji’s grabbing ahold of your ankles. Stretchin’ them out to lock around the back of his neck with one big, beefy hand.

You ogle the way his plates of armor shift as his biceps flex from underneath, pushing apart your too-many layers and twisting your undergarments just to the side. “Toji wh-what are you…”

“Sayin’ those things and expecting me not to lose it.” Comes out the answer - rough, hoarse. Like every syllable was wrenched from the back of his smoky throat, sensual. “Maybe I’ve been too- nice- princess.”

You’re whimpering, hips bucking needily off of the flat surface when Toji punctuates the very end of his sentence by rovering the blunt, glinting hilt of his sword between your legs.

Safe. He would always keep you safe. Letting that scalding coldness drag down, down, down between them–

“Oh- fuck!” Before pressing down so meanly on the slope of your throbbing pussy with his metal shaft, you’re seeing stars once he’s nudgin’ apart your puffy folds just enough to locate your clit and massage.

“Seems like we’ve taught my lil’ princess some baaad manners, huh?” He’s snickering, ‘round and ‘round go the gyrations of decorated hilt.

And you’re so wet that every swerve of his blade leaves the barren air ringing with a muffled squelch! Thighs twitching further apart, he takes the opportunity to clunk his muscular thigh up on the ledge and let it grind just teasingly against your cunt.

Watching in awe as a puddle of silvery sap starts polishing his knee-plate, “Why don’t you get yourself off, princess? Hah- use me.”

“S-so crude.”

Latching onto the broad deltoids of his shoulders, Toji’s bending and bending you all the way in half like a parchment. Smooth fringes of his knee sinking in past the plush of your thighs and draggin’ up your slit.

The metallic surface of his armor squeaks when you prod up into it sloppily, riding his knee. All the way up to his thigh-

“And this, princess–” He gruffs out from above you, scorching hot pants sending goosebumps down your neck. Your hamstrings buuurn when he pushes against you, mounted, almost like he was fucking you- just with clothes and armor unfortunately on. “-is called a mating press. Never taught that one in elocution classes before, huh?”

A mating press- oh, Toji had you in a mating press, and he was rutting down into you until your joints popped in protest.

Wrangling the fronts of your knees until they hit your tits, he’s lavishing his tongue on the crook of your neck and biting.

“Oh, what I would ngh- give to have you like this.” Scarred maw tickling your skin, he’s humping you like he’s in heat. “Would absolutely ruin you.”

“S-so why don’t you-” You’re whimpering once he’s gripping a good handful of your left ass cheek, usin’ the lewd leverage to motion you in a manhandled pace. You’re not just being angled, he’s lifting you almost into midair so that you could hit the most perfect spots on your pussy against his thigh.

Crushing the front of your perky clit against his muscles, he snarls when your riding becomes more erratic. His ears burning, “Don’t- haaaah- don’t tempt me, girl- m’already so-”

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for Toji’s mossy eyes to drop and for you to realize exactly what he’s talking about.

The firm, rock-hard outline of his cock that was peeking out through the gaps in his armor- you don’t even consider what you’re doing before you’re undoing one of his tight laces to let the metal drop and show you all of his bulge.

“Oh, shit-” Toji gasps, eyes sprinting to the back of his skull when you tug down his black trousers to palm his throbbing erection. “Oh shit oh shit-”

“I-I thought these were padding-”

He smirks, “Heh- not for me.”

And, truly, you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at Toji’s fat, veiny cock when you had the chance to on your wedding night. Because he was just so damn big that you’re finding trouble wrapping your hand around his entire girth, palm tingly where you could feel all his prominent veins pulsing across.

Zig-zagged patterns that Toji hunches over and makes you feel-

“M’not fuckin’ breeding ya.” He spits as soon as he lifts his dripping knee off with a sopping plap! Though, he still keeps his sheathed sword hilt positioned on top of your clit. “Just let me…just…”

Toji couldn’t even begin to explain how filthy it felt to be doing what he was doing.

Holding you all spread apart for him while he fucked you- all without putting it inside like he so badly wanted to. Just lazed, sensual draaaags of his lengthy shaft straightly across your slit. All the way from where his pointed mushroom tip poked your clit, to the innocent smooch of his balls against your cunt.

Bass voice hitching with a crack, “I can’t- I-I can’t I can’t-” It sounded as if he was losing it- Toji’s given an inch and he takes a mile. Rearing the bulbous end of his cockhead to slip underneath your panties- “M’gonna go fucking crazy like this.”

“F-fuuuck- feels like you’re ngh- really fucking me, Toji–”

“Don’t say that- ohhh, don’t say that, princess.” Warning you from above, Toji’s free hand grabs a handful of your sopping soaked underwear so that he can wrap the useless fabric around his shaft whilst he grinds down on you. Faster. “S’fuckin’ dangerous, might just end up giving birth to a heh- Fushiguro.”

Mewling whines, “I-I don’t mind-”

The only thing you can get out before Toji crashes his mouth into yours and makes you shut up before you made him even more feral. Vulgar groans departed into your lips as he thrusts across your pussy, barely audible over the sluuuurp of your two juices mixin’.

“Now whaaat have I said about talking out- of- her-” His sensitive pink slit scratches the nub of your clit along with his blade haft, and that makes you see white.

Again and again and again- so close. Toji was just so unintentionally sexy as he pushed you closer n’ closer, meaty thighs sticking against yours, beads of sweat splattering down onto your body, and it only made you even wetter to imagine how much better it would feel if he actually–

“Oh-” Your knight gruffs out, stern lips twitching into a smirk when he snaps his eyes down to your furiously fluttering pussy. “-you’re cumming, princess.”

You- Clenching your eyes as you throw your head back and mewl. You were.

And you didn’t even realize it until Toji was pressing one particularly prominent vein between your bloated pussylips, letting the gleaming curve of it dig back n’ forth against your cunt and grind you through your high.

White-hot bolts of fire sparking, spine arching into his armor.

“O-oh please–” Such pretty noises of pleasure escape your lips, and right now you’re too far gone to wonder or even care if someone might hear from outside. Toes curling, “Toji Toji Toji- Toooji—!”

Chilling metal hilt scraping your pretty clit, “That’s it- thaaat’s it- might not get to stuff you like I want to, princess. But you-” Darkened green eyes stare into yours seriously, “But you’re cumming for me.”

Toji keeps on staring right into your eyes as he fucks himself against your pussylips- straight into his own high. Forcing himself to milk out every drop, to cream all over your puckered lips with a froth of sappy white.

Hissing, it’s all he can do to stop himself from throwing his head back at his orgasm - not wanting to miss a single nanosecond of your expressions.

You’re blubbering out stupidly, “Will it always ngh- feel this good, Toji?”

“I can’t always have you, princess.” With a saccharine-sweet squelch! he dabs the thick end of his thumb into the pool of white that’d collected near your entrance. Letting it drip a few speckles of cum on its way to plop! right between your pouty lips. Making you suck.

It’s all Toji can do to not keen as he responds, “And- and when you…” He gulps, and in all the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so pained. Sage eyes narrowing, he gazes into yours as if he was trying to memorize each blink. Each twinkle. Each shade. “-when you have children, please- please don’t let them have…”

Your eyes, the ones he’d never forget. The ones he’ll see till his dying day. He could handle watching you grow your family, raising heirs while he stands by your sides as he always has.

But if he has to look at them and be looked at through your eyes- ones that never knew him as you did, he doesn’t think even the strongest knight could bear it.

It’s what he wanted to say.

It’s what he would’ve never forgiven himself if he said- because who was he, really, to demand such a thing from you?

So it was only because the universe had finally taken pity on poor Toji Fushiguro and his hopeless love that they decided to spare him this. Because just before he could dare finish that sentence, there’s a soft gasp from the other end of the doorway.

Your blood crystalizes into ice, and Toji’s immediately covering your body- shining blade honed in on the faint figure of Ijichi, who’d very obviously been handed the task of bringing you two back to court.

“S-sorry for interrupting!”

With a bow so low that his wiry glasses clatter briefly onto the marble floor, Ijichi shuts the door fast enough that your mind - still reeling from your recent orgasm - starts to wonder whether he might even have been a figment of your imagination.

Until Toji breathes out a ragged sigh of almost relief, “I have a new recruit to teach about knocking, princess.” Before staring back at you - and that ivory puddle of cum between your legs, and he grins. “Keep that there.”

Toji Fushiguro knew you had a penchant for wandering off- it’s how he met you, after all.

That starry-eyed lil’ girl, just a few years younger than he was, who was roaming around the bustling streets of the town market with absolutely no sense of danger or emergency. Seriously- why the hell were you entertaining that hawker trying to sell you glass as real pearls, when you were obviously wearing the real thing?

And even from a distance, it was obvious that you were out-of-place. So Toji, with all his wizened fourteen years as an actual townsfolk, was the one to help you.

“-from the greatest depths of the greatest sea, I tell you, little miss! And only for you I will give you the low, low price of-”

“Absolutely nothing.” Toji had snarled, signature scowl on his face - he was the most feared of the neighborhood boys for a reason. “That’s what tha crap’s worth.”

Pawing a hand on the silken sleeve of your dress, it’s only after he’d tugged you away from the shop and by his side that he’s remembering something you nobles (even badly disguised ones) had called ah- etiquette.

But no matter, it was too late for that now, and you weren’t complaining either. Only peering up at him with a questioning gaze as Toji pulled you closer to his dirtied undershirt with a hand on your shoulder, “Scam the rich not the kids, fuckin’ conman.”

That seemed to draw a reaction from you, “Oi- who’re you calling a kid-”

“And who’re you calling a conman.” Indignantly, the older man eyeballed the two of you menacingly, “Who even are you, little twerp- I can’t imagine you’re her boy-”

“Gods yeah, I’m her- boy.”

The words made his ears hot with blood, Toji wasn’t popular with anyone in the neighborhood - all finding him too frightening and big - let alone with the daughter of some aristocracy like you. But you weren’t correcting him, either!

“S-so–” The hawker seemed to have believed him, at the way his tannish cheeks were boiling bright red more than anything. It was enough embarrassment for him, and Toji’s turning to tug you away, “-you better- stay away from my girl!”

Hell, that was worse than embarrassing.

Toji’s noticing that damn near the entire market turns at his cracking voice and wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

Even more so when he’s out of earshot of the marketplace and you speak up- “So, my…boy, huh?” Shit- he was still holding onto your hand. You giggle when Toji lets go as if you burned, finding the older boy hilarious. He turns to you and oh- oh, his breath catches at your smile. “Guess that makes you the future king- you seem quite a lot better than that Zenin boy, anyways.”

“Future…king?”

It’s only then that he hears it- the galloping of horses so powerful that they could only be part of the palace’s special forces. The call of ‘princess! There you are-’

Oh, shit.

Toji Fushiguro was fucked.

Go-home-and-think-about-the-princess-you-accidentally-propositioned fucked.

Wreck-your-humble-abode-into-a-training-ground-so-you-can-beg-to-try-out-for-the-royal-knights fucked.

Toji Fushiguro was very, very-

“-out of it.” Wafts Ijichi’s tremoring voice through his little reverie. Tone slightly raised over the humming orchestra, “Toji, sir- sir!”

Toji jolts as he’s brought back- right, here he was. Stationed guard inside the ballroom of one of the most important annual functions of your kingdom, to bless the first few months of the newly-married couple.

He’d zoned out just as your father, the king, had introduced the two of you, and Naoya had led you by your hand for the honored first dance - nothing worse than seeing you in the arms of another.

He’d rather live in his memories with you, than a real life without.

And that brought him back to Ijichi- whispering, though Toji wasn’t sure if it could count as whispering if half the surrounding nobles could likely hear. “Is this because of the other week when I caught you and the princess-”

“You will shut your mouth, Ijichi.” He cuts him off, tightly.

“Yes, sir!”

Bored eyes refocusing back on the middle of the dancefloor, it seems the first dance was finally, torturously over. And Toji’s licking his dry lips as his gaze instantly finds you, as they always can’t help but do.

Always looking at you.

Two parts of the same heart when they meet yours- and Toji feels a part of his break at the sad glimmer in your eyes when you’d wandered to the side of the polished floor, smearing one of those aching faux smiles he’s learned to distinguish. You wanted to leave.

How could you stand there like that?

So bothered and beautiful in your flowing gown, looking as if the rays of the chandeliers above were bouncing off of your sparkling dress - like they, too, knew they wouldn’t shine half as bright as you. And where was your husband-

Oh.

Toji feels something ugly twist at the sight of Naoya talking with a court lady, a smizing smile on his lips. Too close. Too hurtful. And it’s a damn miracle he didn’t slay the heir right then and there.

“Ijichi-” He hisses out, suddenly. Nodding as the other man yelps into rapt attention, “Hold my station- I have fuckin’ important business to attend to.”

The new recruit almost looks as if he was about to argue his superior orders, that is, until he follows Toji’s line of sight to meet you.

“Understood, sir. Please take care of the princess.”

It takes Toji almost fifteen years to reach you, and only three steps.

“Toji!” You gasp, seeing your lifelong friend bound up to your side, pointedly away from his station. “What are you doing here-”

“Do you want it to be him?”

Eyes boring into yours, hands itching for your own. He can apologize and grovel at your feet later for cutting the future queen off, but right now he just needs to know. And you already know, too.

Your eyes darting to the middle of the dancefloor, where the string quartet had started up a new romantic melody, and Naoya was dragging a giggling noble lady into a dance.

You could feel the eyes on you, and not just Toji’s. “Consorts. I told him I didn’t want- and then- about the heir- I think he just wanted consorts from the beginning. That’s why…but even though we’ve never consummated, our marriage is a contract so I can’t.”

“Do you want it to be him?” And Toji never repeats himself - not to eager new knights, generals, or those court elders - always listened to.

But he would echo those very words to you as many times as you wanted until he was heard.

Your voice was almost a whisper- “No.”

There comes your answer, and there comes that familiar scarred grin of his.

“Then come with me.”

“M-mm right there, Toji–” Your cries rip through the empty atmosphere of the knight’s quarters, right in unison with the rickety creak! given off by Toji’s shabby bed as you buck your hips in tandem.

The glossed walls of your cunt scouring for the touch of his roughened fingertips, scraping and stirrin’ right between your pussylips and hitting the bottom deeply. It’s driving you mad how easily he’s spotting your sultry g-spot, clawing at his ruthless wrist-

“Impatient giiirl.” He croons out cockily from above you, words huffed through clenched teeth. And Toji’s pressing his capped knee against your restless thigh to make you take it- “Unless you want my fat fuckin’ cock to hah- stretch the princess out then take it.”

You’re whimpering, spine arching off of the clammy blankets when his middle finger flicks your sweetest spot. “I-is it always that big that you have to stretch it out this much.”

“No.” Comes the answer - and Toji’s free hand toying with your left hand. Particularly the diamond ring on it, one he’s unapologetically plucking off of your finger and pushing onto his own - his thick pinky finger being where it would fit.

Before slipping the banded digit past your dewy wet folds with a pryin’ squeeeelch, the noise is so loud and lewd that Toji groans as your greedy cunt swallows his fourth finger inside. “Jus’ me, princess.”

Just what- your brain can barely even compute past the stretch. The firm ridges of your knight’s lengthy fingerpads barreling straight past your elastic hole.

Opening you up so much on his digits that it takes you a few breaths, a few seconds staring between Toji’s meaty thighs for you to understand what he meant- oh.

He was just that big.

Whimpering, the chilling royal insignia creeps along your gummy walls and presses deep into your tender areas. Splotchy puddles of sap dribbling down Toji’s wrist, “Chatting to me from there too, huh? So loud- they’ll hear us at the ball, princess.”

They wouldn’t - the Keep too barren with every knight stationed, and the music of the orchestra too loud. You’re sure that the royal event was so bustling that no one’s even noticed you were gone, yet.

But you mewl anyway, “Th-then- ngh! Then just wan’ you inside, Toji- please.”

Oh, the sound of your cute begging makes Toji’s ravaged, aching cock twitch. “Ohhh- I wanna fuck those manners outta you-” He groans, head slouching backwards once he’s assessing your driveling cunt.

Faster, harder.

Toji’s fingers carnally itch your pussy like he was crazed, pumping feverish in n’ out like he wasn’t even letting your slick, bulging folds get used to the stretch. Just watching with a leer as you struggle.

Gruffing, “Open those pretty legs for me wider- yeahhh–” Toji’s sweaty, armorless body nuzzles the insides of your sheeny limbs. His bulky legs spread apart until his heavy erection throb-throb-throbs by the side of your inner thighs.

“Wh-what are you-”

“Shhh watch.”

You can’t do anything but gawk once he’s rovering his free hand over your tummy- doughy thumb pressing down on the button of your clit, index streeeeetching upwards.

He was measuring you. Measuring just how far his cock would go inside you.

Once the curve of your knight’s index draws a horizontal line about halfway down your stomach, he grins. “There-” X marks the spot, and you yelp once the stern point of his finger taps right there. “-m’gonna fuck an ngh- heir into you there, princess.”

“Th-then do it, Sir Toji.” You huff, brows knitting with impatience.

“Well…” He drawls, and for a second you think that Toji’s about to pull away and leave you all high and dry. But, really, he’s just tugging on his snug white undershirt, dampened and clinging onto him with sweat in a way that made it look painted.

Your mouth waters as you peek at the curly black happy trail which was lining the middle of his abs - so toned and tense that you could count exactly eight. Maybe more.

A pearly droplet of sweat clings onto one of his shaggy bangs, and drips- slithering between Toji’s pectorals, his bumpy core, disappearing into where his heavy cock was fat n’ throbbing.

In the dimmed lighting of Toji’s bedroom, you can already make out just how red and pretty his bulging tip was, curved just slightly right and weeping fat globules of frothy pre. It collects in a sleek mess over your pussylips, damn near ten inches of veiny shaft settled between your slit and waiting.

He was weighty.

“-if my queen asks.”

And Toji knows you. He waits just until your mouth opens to snark back- before kissin’ your glistening entrance with the edge of his mushroom tip and pushing—

“O-ohhh fuck–!” You’re letting off a shrill wailing whimper, hands reaching somewhere- anywhere for you to hold onto for dear life while Toji fit himself inside your tight pussy.

Slurring, you grasp onto the rippling muscles of his deltoids and claw such red, red lines. “Shoooo big-”

Toji’s leaning himself closer, he’s slouching. He’s swabbing his plump, swollen tip deeper-

“A m-mating press.” Barking out a sudden laugh - octaves higher, wild like he was still in disbelief. Toji snakes his beefy arms underneath both your thighs and lifts you up until your ass cheeks are almost off the aged mattress. Folding and folding- he really was pushing you into a mating press. “I have you in a mating press- you. Like I’ve always dreamed.”

Before the words have even left his mouth, he reaches down to swab your bloated folds with the edge of his thumb. Straightly smoothing your pussylips and watching how you gulping down each solid, rummaging inch.

“And yer taking me-” Gasping, just the slightestshift closer leaves his pointed cockhead gliding off your walls and burying even deeper. Snagging his tender veins on your orifice and making him hiss, “-taking me allll up inside. O-oh, you’re so fucking- tight-”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been stretched out this much. Toji’s so damn big that it’s like your soppy walls were clinging to him like a second skin.

Not even thrusting properly, quick, rapid half-ruts that make him feel more like an animal. The curves of his spine bowing against where your syrupy pussy was being stretched out, “But will it even fit, then?”

“M’gonna make it fit.” He growls, slowing down the mindless cadence of his hips to a lazy tempo that makes you keen at the sensual lightning bolts of his veiny shaft.

Feeling every twirling coil and pulse shoveling through your entrance.

Possessively, Toji’s guiding one of your sweaty palms within his. Placing it right down on your tummy and pushing on the back to make you press- “Here- feel.”

“Oh-oh!”

You’re seeing white- the walls of your pussy being sagged by his cock’s weight.

Toji was making you massage where his pounding shaft was creating a lil’ bulging outline. Feeling every mazing bump where his slimy tip was snaking to your deepest depths. “Feel the way you’re sluuuurping me up s-so good. S’like you’re made for me.”

Crying out- you can’t keep yourself from planting your feet flat and leaning into his touch. “Don’t tease me and j-just put it all the way in, To- fuck!”

“Awww, but I’ve waited years, princess.” He snickers, kneading harder on the cylindrical ridge of your cute tummy bulge. And oh- Toji can feel that precise moment he’s bottoming out.

When he’s bubbling out a fat wad of precum that smears against the very back of your cervix, the edge of his ballsack hitting your cunt. Finally. Finally.

Panting- seething through his teeth at the gooey warmth, “Princess- princess princess- oh, princess, m’finally inside you.”

Experimentally, Toji reels his hips all the way back - all the way until the cherry-red end of his cocktip was sticking to your hole like adhesive. Before slamming right back in- “And again.” Another. “And again. And again and- hngh- again.”

“Shit- shit shit shit y-you really are all the way inside.”

You caress the mean bulging swab of his cocktip against the top of your tummy, confirming to your melted mind that he wasn’t actually thumping your damn lungs - even though it might feel like it.

“Of course I am-” Toji doesn’t end his hoarse declaration with any punctuation. He’s finishing it with a quick splat! of saliva gluing your lips shut, “You’re mine.”

With a hand on your tummy to balance himself, he leans just the barest inches backwards until he can do the same to your puckered pussy. Splatter! It’s so wet and gleaming with moisture that forms the most sinful pool, “All mine. And I’m yours.”

And now he’s fucking you like a madman, drilling the split-ended circle of his orifice against your mushy walls until you sob.

The size of him was insane. It was stretching you out so good that all you can do is flap your mouth-watered tongue wetly inside and yeowl. “Ngh- feels so good- feels so full inside with you, Toji.”

“Yer gonna feel ngh- even fuller when I fuck a baby into ya, girl.”

He scoffs once an especially hard thrust leaves the base of his cock stinging, and you shoved up to the headboard. “And n-no running.” Before you know it, Toji’s maintaining a rude chokehold of your neck and using it to drag you after every recoil. “How m’I gonna fuck a nghhh- baby into ya if you run, hm?”

Fuck- Toji’s jackhammers were vulgar - almost vicious.

Every spank of his v-line let off aggressive paps! that made your eardrums pop. Your lips wobbling each n’ every time his bulging tip was stirrin’ around your insides to pinpoint every sensitive orifice.

You feel the thin line running down his plummy tip scrape right along the bundle of your g-spot, dolloping out a stream of precum as hello. Grumbling, “Hmmm– how cute. Hope our heir’s just as cute as ngh- you.”

“Gonna be j-just as rude as you.” You’re mumbling, and his absolute favorite moment was whenever your hips would be so stimulated that you’re perking away from his thrusts.

All the better for him to tighten your airflow and bring you back down- humming at the erotic jiggle of your ass cheeks against his chiseled pelvis. “Heh- then I guess I’ll be the fun parent, meanwhile you…”

And fuck- fuck, he almost doesn’t finish his sentence with the way your tight, circular-shaped insides clench.

A glittery gloss of slick dripping down the sides of your pussylips, Toji’s scarred lips curl once he drags your pliant body back to his again. Relishing in the harsh smack! against his abs, “You can sit there while I give you a pretty lil’ heir. Make my h-hah! pretty lil’ princess all round n’ glowing. All-”

He doesn’t know what not to do. He’s touching you everywhere - anywhere.

From the underside of your thighs to the perky nub of your clit, Toji brandishes his thumb against your nub and watches you quake.

“-all pumped- full- until you can’t take anymore. S’my damn duty. I’ll wash them- dress them, put them to sleep, feed them- don’t have to do a nghh- damnnn thing. Just- get- pregnant.”

With the fringe of his muscular thigh lifting to keep you from running, you can only throw your head back and trill at the dual knocks of his cock against your g-spot, fingers against your clit. “I’m close- close- haaah not gonna last, Toji.”

“Already fuckin’ know.” He could feel the way your cute insides were clamping after every sweet ba-dump! of your racing heartbeat. The heavy curve of his balls begging him to milk himself on you, “Cum for me. Cum on my cock- fuck! The mama needs to cum if we’re gonna get you pregnant, princess.”

“Please- mm–”

“Deep breaths, deeeeep breaths.” With every heaving deep breath, his rams only grew deeper, too. Before ultimately Toji spreads his sweat-sheened thighs wider and groans— “Cum.”

It’s impossible not to listen - not when his fat, vein-decorated cock was splitting you open just so. Swervin’ your sticky walls apart and shoveling himself all the way near your throat whilst you reached your high.

“It’s sooo- oh.” Your vision dazed with stars, and it took so much out of you to even grind your hips down and meet his sloppy tempo. Keening, “Cum…inside.”

Oh-so-dumbified that you didn’t even realize Toji was already finishing himself off on your dripping wet cunt until he’s guiding one of your hands to feel your driveling pussy. Letting that saccharine white sap slip allll the way between your digits and wad up.

“Already- hah- already did. And fuck- girl, you’re loving this, huh?”

Nodding, your eyes just kept on criss-crossing after every knot of seed that bundled up near your cervix. Sloshing like waves against your womb-

“Oh look.” He’s manhandling your own hand to tease and sluuuurp down your overstuffed slit, pushin’ back in the knots of creamy white that leaked out. “Even she agrees- oh, aaaand you wanna know what else she’s sayin’?”

“Wh-what?”

Gruffly leaning in closer, Toji’s skin was so burning hot against yours that you feel your slam-impacted flesh break out in a fresh layer of perspiration. “She says it’s gonna be a girl.”

It was unsteady, animalistic the way that your knight- your lover was creaming out every ounce of cum on your pussy. Squishing it past your tight hole and letting his base slather in such a thick ivory ring, you whine. “O-oh, fuck, m’so sensitive, To- ah!”

But he wasn’t letting go of you that easily.

Fuck how electric skitters of your orgasm left your legs thrashing weakly, oh-so-overstimulated.

Toji hisses at the springy recoil of his knobbled tip against the entrance to your womb, rugged fingers dragging you back-

“How about…” Pressing down, your pretty bulge wasn’t simply filled with his cock anymore. It was jiggling around with the inflation of his masses of cum. “-we make it twins?”

And it could have been Toji simply greedy for a second round, for a lucky third, a fourth- but the only thing you’re sure of was that his wooden bed was brokenly sagging on one side by the time early day had begun breaking through the shutters of his drafty windows. Lighting your eyes ablaze once you’re lolling your head forwards and slamming your grinding hips down onto Toji’s.

You don’t know who’s more ruined now - him or you.

Whimpering at the slight scratch of his tufted happy trail, your thighs twitch weakly at the sensation. “H-haaa- just a little more- mmm a bit more, Toji.”

He sounds utterly fucking gone as he coos up at you, eyes half-closed. “You’ve been saying that for ngh- aaaages, greedy girl.” And yet, the cracked bedframe protests when he’s bucking his hips in tandem to puncture your battered g-spot with a spank. “G-gonna milk me d-ry–”

Toji’s voice was breaking, he was whimpering.

You gasp, “Did you just-”

“Shut up.” His veiny shaft enters your hole mercilessly- and each time you thought you were used to the textured stretch of his sheer size, he always manages to surprise you. “Sh-shut up and-”

Toji can’t even tell you to take it because you were- over n’ over until his bulbous, weighty balls were all tender, and each time your hips swerved in that wiiide heart shape left him drooling. Hypnotized.

A creamy circle of cum brands on his hilt and Toji gulps, “Get pregnant.”

“That’s what we’re doing.”

“Yes- yes, I want- no. I need it.” It wasn’t just enough to have you riding him, Toji’s rutting up in half-dazed ruts until he was seeing stars. “Need you to- get- pregnant.” One hand pawing at the bulging cumflation on your tummy, the other clinging onto your hips to make you bounce. “Get pregnant get pregnant- get- pregnant.”

He wasn’t just animalistic, he was feral. Filthily streaking your walls with a wisp of pre, every slight gush only makes his slip n’ slide probe deeper.

Blinking back fucking tears when your sopping wet walls clamp down - just the tiniest bit, but he was so damn fucked-out. He’s gasping, feverish, bucking-

Only to make the fleshy tip of his crown slip out of your sloppy entrance with a loud plop!

“N-no-” Toji’s lips depart a murky pant, entire body shuddering when one of his hands clasp his ravaged n’ red cock. “No no no no- no- inside, need it i-inside.”

“O-ohhh fuck the stretchh–”

Maw dropping, voice hoarse with calling his name - if the ball hadn’t heard you before, then they sure as hell were now.

Whining, you’re cumming on Toji’s cock for the nth time in the past few hours. Well, ‘cumming’ was an understatement - you’re downright drenching him in sparkly bucketloads of your squirt.

Letting it drip down the sides of his ripped, flexible hips, showering him in a thin spray of your cloying wetness. You find it easy to use that sticky moistened texture as a way to glissade your front down his abs and ride him to insanity.

Milking Toji’s fat, bludgeoning cock until he was wrung dry.

Hitting and hitting the goopy spots inside you that clamped down on him the tightest, and yet, all his achingly hard tip could do was flinch. Jolting with a few sparks of pleasure once he’s hitting his wave of bliss. “Shit- shit, ya fucking milked me sucked me- hah- dry. Sucked me all dry.”

Cumming.

Cumming and cumming so hard that Toji half wonders whether he could cum again. The softened smooch of his ballsack makes his head feel numb, teeth grit as you just keep on riding him in slight motions repeatedly. As if you couldn’t stop anymore.

“I-I love you.” Toji breathes, voice cracked. Holding you tight against him, “I’ve always- always loved you. I’ve loved you so long that I’d tear down any world where I don’t.”

“Toji- I love you, too.”

Toji feels the scouring end of his mushroomy tip skim deeply into your womb, letting it brand its spongy circumference and stay there while he babbles. Hopelessly pussydrunk. Hopelessly in love. “Run away with me…?”

Took him long enough.

“My princess, I told you not ta handle heavyduty tasks when you’re-”

“And I’ve already told you, my Sir Toji, that reading a book isn’t heavyduty.”

“Just let me read it to ya.” Toji rolls his shoulders from a long day out in the field. And you’re roaming your eyes over him appreciatively, all this extra manual labor had only made your husband more naturally swole.

He trudges up to where you were sprawled out serenely across your cute cottage couch, tucked safely away in a kingdom where nobody would find you. None of your furious, heirless ex-husband, or those nosy elders.

Well, almost nobody-

“Ijichi wrote to say he’ll be visiting this week.” You’re tittering over Toji’s dramatic groan, poking his beefy biceps whilst he lays across your lap, restful. “Oh, c’mon, our daughter loves him. Speaking of- you should get her from the garden, it’s getting dark.”

Waving an airy hand, though his heart swoops as it always did when he thought of you and his little daughter, his exact carbon copy - except for that one feature, of course. “Builds immunity.”

His little family.

Including-

“I hope…” Gently, oh-so-gently as if this was a dream on the verge of shattering, Toji lays his palm across your swollen tummy. Awe striking through him at the slight movement beneath your thoroughly stretched-out stomach- and your daughter chose that exact moment to barge inside, sprinting to cuddle right on top of him.

Looking at you, and you’re finally looking back. “-our son has your eyes, too.”

A/N. Daddy’s been listening to this song and going THROUGH it- Anyways, this was supposed to be PWP what HAPPENED?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fic #toji #toji fushiguro #tonywrites

9K notes · View notes

soapysoapysoapysoapy · 2 months ago

Text

taking one (& another & another & another) for the team | soap x reader x ghost | inspired by: @softaestluv johnny's pent up blurb

It started as a joke. "I'm gonna die if I don't get my cock wet soon," Johnny whined, sprawled backward over the couch, legs spread, hand draped over his forehead like he was seconds away from his last breath. *"Swear I can feel it in my fucking molars, mate. I'm gonna explode."

At first, you and the others ignored him. Typical Soap — loud, dramatic, a walking sexual frustration PSA. But it didn't stop. If anything, it got worse: every mission debrief, every meal, every late-night sit around the barracks, Johnny lamented his poor, poor cock like it was a national tragedy.

When he started describing how tragic his wanks were — "My hand's too fuckin' rough, not the same, need something wet, something tight—" — you snapped. Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: "Christ, Soap, I'll fuckin' take one for the team if it'll shut you up."

Johnny sat up like you'd just offered him oxygen.

Which is how you found yourself bent over the nearest flat surface, jeans yanked halfway down your thighs, Johnny pressed tight to your back, rutting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck—fuckin' hell, love, yer savin' my life," he groaned, hips slamming into you like he was trying to crawl inside. "Warm 'n tight, fuck, could stay here forever."

You barely bit back a moan, hands braced hard enough to hurt. You weren't supposed to enjoy this, just do your duty to the squad’s sanity.

But then Johnny started whining again — not his usual loudmouth bitching, but these needy, half-choked sounds against the back of your neck.

"Need ya," he rasped, like he couldn't help himself. "Need yer cunt, fuck, not gonna be enough, need it again—'m not done—"

Even after he came — hot, messy, filling you to the brim — he didn't stop. Still rocking against you, still murmuring desperate filth into your skin, already hardening inside you again.

You realized then: You hadn't fixed the problem. You'd made it worse.

He barely pulled out before he was pushing right back in, thick and slick with his own cum, grinding into your overstretched walls like he could merge the two of you if he tried hard enough.

"Fuckin' perfect," Johnny slurred against your neck, teeth scraping along your skin. "Mine now, y'know that? Filled you up good—fuckin' claimed you—"

You tried to push him off, half-hearted at best — muscles trembling, brain fogged from how full you felt — but Johnny just wrapped an arm around your middle and held you there, hips rolling slow and filthy, fucking his own mess deeper inside.

"Nuh-uh, love," he muttered, pressing kisses to your shoulder, messy and possessive. "Said I'd lose my mind if I didn’t get to fuck you. Y’think one load's enough to fix this? After all that sufferin’?"

You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch again, fully hard despite just cumming. He chuckled low against your skin, voice dark and wrecked.

"Told ya I'd go mad. Now yer stuck with me, sweetheart."

He fucked you slow the second time — not like the frantic, desperate slamming from before, but a grinding, possessive rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you properly. Every time you clenched around him, he gasped, praising you in that ruined, filthy brogue.

"That's it, good girl," he breathed. "Take it all, take it like y'made for it. Fuckin' born to milk my cock, huh? Gonna pump you so full you won't remember what it feels like to be empty."

You felt him bulge even thicker inside you, grinding down into your cervix, every thrust stretching you wider, making you feel owned in a way that had nothing to do with orders or duty.

Johnny growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. You barely registered it before he was moving — hands gripping your hips, manhandling you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

"Wanna see," he panted, almost delirious. "Wanna see how fuckin' ruined you are for me."

Your legs were shoved open before you could think to protest, ankles tossed over his shoulders. Johnny leaned back just enough to look — and groaned, obscene and ragged.

"Fuckin' hell, look at that," he hissed, watching his cum leaking out of you, your cunt red and puffy, still clenching greedily around nothing. His cock throbbed in his hand, still wet, still ready.

"So messy, love. Drippin' for me already. Y'know what that means, don’t ya?"

You shook your head weakly, breath stuttering in your chest. Johnny just grinned, all teeth and danger.

"Means I’ve gotta fill you up again. 'Til you can't take any more."

Without warning, he lined himself up and pushed — forcing his cock back inside your sore, sloppy cunt in one thick, slow thrust. You cried out, back arching, and Johnny moaned like you were his whole damn salvation.

He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. Started fucking you immediately — deep, grinding strokes that had your whole body jolting with each brutal snap of his hips.

"That's it, that's it," he gasped, head tipping back, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it all, pretty thing. Gonna make sure yer stuck full of me. Walkin' round leakin' my cum for days."

Your brain barely worked anymore. Just open-mouthed whimpers, toes curling, walls spasming around him like you wanted it — wanted everything he was giving you and more.

Johnny's pace turned frantic again, slamming into you harder, the sound of skin against skin filthy and wet between you.

"Belong to me now," he growled, words punching out of him with each thrust. "No one else. Fuckin' mine."

You couldn’t even pretend to fight it. Couldn’t think past the way he filled you so perfectly, the overwhelming heat, the way his cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you until you felt tears spring to your eyes.

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, grinding down against you, hips jerking as he spilled deep again, thick and endless. You could feel it — the heat, the stretch, the way he pulsed inside you like he was branding you from the inside out.

Johnny didn’t pull out. Just collapsed over you, mouth hot and messy against your jaw, still twitching inside your wrecked cunt.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "Still not enough. Need you again, love. Gonna fill you 'til you’re round with me, swear it."

Johnny stayed buried in you for a long moment, hips grinding lazy, slow circles, as if trying to force every last drop even deeper. You could feel it leaking out around his cock — hot, sticky, obscene — and you whimpered, overstimulated and wrecked.

Johnny noticed immediately. Growled against your throat, feral.

"Leakin'," he muttered, almost offended. "Can't have that. Gotta keep it all in, love. Need you drippin’ full for me."

He finally, finally pulled out — and the flood of cum that gushed out made you sob, weak and broken. But Johnny didn’t give you a second to recover. He dropped between your legs, shoving two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep and obscene, scooping the mess back up.

"No wastin' it," he rasped, fucking his cum right back into your cunt with slow, filthy thrusts. "Take it all, greedy girl. You fuckin' need it."

Your legs kicked weakly at the overstimulation, but Johnny just grinned — wild and unhinged — before spreading you wider, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit while he stuffed you full with his fingers.

"Gonna breed you proper," he whispered hoarsely. "Fill you so deep you’ll be round with me. Belly all heavy, stuffed full of my fuckin' load—"

You sobbed, hips rolling despite yourself, body desperate for more even as your mind shattered into static. You should have known it’d be like this — Johnny didn’t do anything by halves.

He leaned down, mouth dragging messy, possessive kisses along your trembling stomach like he could will it to swell.

"Mine," he murmured. "All fuckin' mine."

And that’s exactly when you heard the door creak open. You barely had the strength to lift your head, vision blurry — but you saw a tall shadow in the doorway.

Ghost.

He stood there, silent, unreadable behind his mask — just watching. Johnny didn't stop. Didn’t even slow down. He curled his fingers inside you again, making you cry out, making more of the mess spill down your thighs.

Ghost's head tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Problem?" Johnny barked over his shoulder, voice wrecked but cocky as hell. Like he wanted Ghost to see — to know.

Ghost said nothing. Just crossed his arms slowly over his broad chest.

Johnny smirked and turned his attention back to you, dragging his fingers out with a wet squelch just to stuff them right back in — slow and possessive.

"That's right," he said lowly, clearly for Ghost’s benefit now. "Had to take care of it myself. Filled her up so good she's fuckin' leaking. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

You whimpered in response — too broken, too full, too wrecked to argue.

Ghost watched you for a long, heavy moment — chest rising and falling — before he spoke, voice flat and unreadable: "You better clean up after yourself, Soap."

Then, calmly — without another word — Ghost shut the door behind him with a click.

Johnny barked out a wild, breathless laugh against your stomach. "Come to help, mate?" he panted, fingers still lazily dragging through the wrecked mess of your cunt. "Think she needs it. Poor thing's so fuckin' stuffed already, can't hold it all."

Ghost didn’t answer. Didn't need to.

He stalked closer, heavy boots thudding against the floor, until he was standing right at the edge of the bed — looming over your trembling body. You watched through blurred eyes as he popped the button on his cargo pants, dragging the zipper down slowly, deliberately.

Johnny shifted you slightly, spreading your legs even wider, thumbs digging bruises into your hips to keep you open — presenting you like a ruined offering.

"C'mon, Ghost," Johnny muttered, voice rough and wild. "Don't leave the girl waitin'. Look how pretty she is—drippin' fuckin' ready."

Still silent, Ghost wrapped a hand around the base of his cock — thick, flushed, already leaking — and lined himself up.

He didn’t ease in. Just pressed the fat head against your already-used, dripping hole and pushed.

You screamed, body arching off the bed, overwhelmed instantly by the stretch, the pressure, the unbearable fullness of taking another man inside you without even a second to adjust.

Ghost let out a low, broken sound, not quite a grunt, not quite a moan, and buried himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"There we fuckin' go," Johnny whispered against your ear, laughing breathlessly. "Take him, love. Take us both."

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Ghost fucked you without mercy — slow, devastating thrusts that forced Johnny’s mess and his own spit to spill down your thighs in filthy, wet streams. He said nothing — just breathing harshly through the fabric of his mask, hands brutal on your hips, using you like a living, breathing fucktoy.

Johnny kept whispering filth into your ear — encouragements, praises, commands — while Ghost destroyed you from the inside out.

"That's it, good girl," Johnny crooned, petting your hair while Ghost slammed into you. "Take it like you were fuckin' made for it."

You felt your mind fracturing — pure overstimulation, pure broken pleasure — as Ghost fucked you harder, grinding deep, his cock stretching you to the point of tears.

And then Johnny shifted again — ducking low between your legs to lick around where you were stuffed full, his tongue dragging over your overstretched rim every time Ghost pulled out just a fraction.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny gasped, almost reverent. "Look at that, Ghost. Cunt's swallowin' you like she needs it."

Ghost let out another low, broken sound — and picked up the pace. The bed creaked violently under you, your body jolting with every brutal, punishing thrust.

You could feel it building — some dark, overwhelming climax you couldn’t fight — tightening low in your stomach, burning up your spine.

Ghost suddenly reached down and gripped your throat — not tight, just heavy, possessive — and that was it.

You shattered. Clamping down around him so hard Ghost actually groaned, thrusts going sloppy, brutal. And then you felt it — hot, thick, spilling deep inside you, Ghost’s cock pulsing violently, joining Johnny’s mess inside your ruined cunt.

You lay there twitching, barely conscious, as Ghost finally pulled out — slow, heavy — and watched as his cum immediately leaked out after him.

Johnny's hand was already there — catching it, stuffing it back inside you with lazy, satisfied fingers.

Ghost pulled his gloves back on silently, redressing with mechanical efficiency. Said nothing. Before he left, he pressed one gloved hand to your trembling thigh — firm, approving — and then disappeared out the door without a word.

Johnny leaned down over you, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

"Told ya, sweetheart," he whispered with a wicked grin. "Was gonna fill you proper."

And from the ache in your gut and the obscene mess between your thighs —you knew he wasn’t lying.

Morning hit like a slow, heavy sledgehammer.

You barely even remembered falling asleep — just flashes: Johnny fucking his cum deeper into you with lazy, loving thrusts while you sobbed into the sheets; Ghost’s heavy hand gripping your thigh one last time before disappearing without a word.

Now your entire body ached. Your thighs were sore, trembling even at the slightest twitch. Your pussy was a wreck — raw, swollen, still leaking a slow, lazy drip of milky white that soaked into the crumpled sheets beneath you.

You tried to shift — to roll onto your side — and whimpered immediately. Everything hurt. You could feel the mess drying on your skin, inside your cunt, coating your thighs.

And Johnny, of course, was already awake.

He lay stretched out beside you, arms tucked behind his head, a smug, satisfied smirk spread wide across his face.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he drawled, voice rough from use, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Sleep well?"

You glared at him weakly, too exhausted to even muster words. Johnny just grinned wider.

"Y’look wrecked," he said cheerfully, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. "Proper job, that."

You tried to move again — a pathetic, sluggish attempt — and Johnny laughed, full-bodied and warm.

"Aw, poor thing. Can’t even fuckin' walk, huh?"

His hand drifted down — over your collarbone, the bruises he’d left, the fingerprints, the possessive marks — until he palmed your lower belly, pressing down just slightly.

You gasped, muscles clenching reflexively around the lingering mess inside you.

Johnny's grin turned wolfish.

"Still full, are ya?" he murmured. "Good girl. Holdin’ it all for us."

He sat up slowly, bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat, and pulled back the sheets.

You whimpered as cool air brushed your ruined, sore cunt — thighs automatically trying to close, to hide yourself.

Johnny tsked softly, spreading you open with two rough hands like you were something precious to be displayed.

He hummed low in his throat — a sound of satisfaction.

"Ghost’ll be pleased," he muttered, almost to himself.

You blinked sluggishly at him, confused.

Johnny chuckled and gestured toward the nightstand. There — sitting neatly next to a bottle of water — was a simple piece of paper. No name. No explanation. Just three short words, written in Ghost’s heavy, blocky scrawl: “Hold it in.”

Your heart hammered painfully in your chest.

Johnny laughed again — delighted, wrecked — and leaned down to press a filthy, claiming kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

"Guess we’re not done after all, love," he whispered against your skin. "Orders are orders."

And from the wicked glint in his eye, you knew you weren’t getting a break anytime soon.

10K notes · View notes

screampied · 5 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 P*$$Y FAIRY ?!

☆ sum. when you said you wanted to ‘milk him’ for all that he’s worth, he didn’t think you meant actually! toji, nanami, sukuna, choso, geto, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, LOTSSS of cum and balls and more… cum, milkin’ them dry, cowboy! toji, camboy! choso, condom breaks, sukuna lactates, nipplę play, slight usage of "mommy", cowgirl / reverse, bręeding, overstim, whiny whipped men, pregnancy mentions, praise, implied multiple rounds.

SUKUNA ★ RYOMEN.

“h- hah, got.. some nerve,” sukuna growls, a good portion of his face burning with crimsoned embarrassment. sukuna’s securely strapped to his throne—and to top it all off, you had him wrapped in pink ribbons. sukuna’s brawny frame underneath you grew stiff, and he let out a shallow groan once you lecherously wind your hips back ‘round in a circle. he felt sooo full - his base was just pleading to be dumped, dumped inside of you for the third time.

not only were you milking him - you were also milking his pride too.

“brat, you’re gettin’ off on this arentcha?” sukuna grumbles with a pout, hearing each popping plap slap from between your dripping wet thighs. from to the very plump bottom, his cock’s already still a bit foamy from earlier. you lean into his bare chest, smugly snickering against his neck. “mmm- ffuuuck, don’t . . don’t stop though. that’s an orde-”

and right as he’s grunting mid-sentence, sukuna pauses. carmine eyes flicker at a sudden head that’s leisurely lowering against his pecs. it’s you, and as you’re still bouncing on his lap, he feels your wet, hot tongue slide a path across his sensitive nipple. “ngh-” sukuna’s nostrils flare, and it’s taking almost everything within him to not whine.

until he does.

your hips roll roll roooolls around in swift, addictive circles as you cup your lips around his pec. “mmh,” you hummed, feeling his big body writhe underneath you as your hips slowed their tempo. you could hear his cute growls as he couldn’t do anything but sit right — the pink, pretty ribbons were straight-up mockery.

sukuna could have honestly just torn them apart - besides, they weren’t even properly tied around his limbs (which he secretly found cute) but he decided to play along with your little fantasy.

but just a few seconds passed and it happened.

you feel a treacly, sweet taste in your mouth— and it pours pour pours, tickling down on your tastebuds entirely. blinking rapidly, your hips pause before you swipe the pad of your thumb across your lips that are dripping with the creamy, white droplet.

“ ‘kuna, did you just . . lactate?”

“tch. die,” he mumbles, and his face looks so lewd.

sukuna’s pink brows were parted and his mouth was pried wide open. he’s panting - heaving, raspy breath after breath leaves from his drooling lips before his fangs get caught with his tongue.

“and don’t- don’t call it that, woman. just- keep going. ‘m close. soso fuckin’ close.”

gliding the tip of your balmy, tepid tongue over toward his other neglected nipple—sukuna shudders. you couldn’t lie, him being wrapped in nothing but pink ribbons like a present while sitting on his notorious throne was a sight you honestly wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“mmm, not with that attitude,” and he moans, feeling you starting to suck against his hardened pecs. “ask nicely,” and you give him a cheeky smile, reaching a hand down to stroke a few sloppy pumps against his cock. it was such a mess - streams ‘n streams of foamy slick everywhere, drizzling down between the cracks of your legs and sticking onto sukuna’s beefy toned thighs. “m’lord.”

“you’re tryin’ me. how dare you defy m- ngh- i’m sensitive.. thereee,” and sukuna shivers beneath you, feeling your tongue glide across his nipples for another time. even still, he’s leaking as you rode him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. sukuna’s lids were getting heavy - drooping lowly as he hears the wet plaps of your pussy milking him dry.

he’s about to shoot blanks again, and sukuna’s mind actually turns blank once he feels the edges of your teeth nip against his pec. “mmngh-”

“mhm, c’mon ‘kuna. inside,” you whisper, both thighs sloppily sticking together like glue. your cunt’s just so eager, swallowing all of his barbaric hungry pumps until his tip swiiiipes its way near your throbbing clit thrice. spit dribbles from your lips as you speak and he watches, grunting each time his cock twitches inside of you.

you’re making sure to roll your hips - sway after sway, and right as you pinch his other leaking nipple you hear him whine.

sukuna prowls gruffly against your ear, wrapping strong, bulky arms around your waist as your body ruts into his.

his dick’s pouring yet another spumy load of cum and that’s when you started to come to a slow. he’s melting like putty - inside you especially, and sukuna starts to pant as he feels your tongue lick up the last bittersweet-tasting remnants that spill from his chest.

“ugh- such a nasty, ‘lil thing,” he holds the back of your head, darting half-lidded ruddy eyes at you. a thumb glissades over your wet lips and he groans as he sees you giving the tip of his tongue a playful nibble. “wipe that grin off your lips, girl.”

“or what? you gonna lactate again for me?” you tease, stilling your hips as his cock that’s now flaccidly soft, oozes its last final spurts of cum. right away, sukuna shoots you a glowering glare, but it’s more of a pout because he’s already missing your lips wrapped around his swollen, reddened nipples.

only you know his two weakness.

you, and his overly sensitive nipples.

“s- shut up,” he tsks, letting off a hoarse, raspy breath once peeks down and sees the buttery, white ring bubbling around his base. sukuna’s been entirely milked, and judging from him seeping his fangs lightly into your neck to suppress his faint whimpers, he only wanted more. “keep.. just keep . . doin’ that,” and sukuna swallows, gently tracing circles around your thighs with his whetted nails.

“keep suckin’ here,” he gingerly guides your head near the bottom of his pecs - it’s far redder now, glossed with dewdrops of your saliva while it’s still drizzling from the puffed centers. it wasn’t even like sukuna was telling you anymore, he was desperately asking.

“please..”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

“milk me, yeah?” geto raises a ravened brow, his voice almost taunting you. his tone - it’s always as smooth as silk, the type of tone to make your thighs squeeze together in anticipation. it had the perfect amount of rasp with a pinch of slyness too.

as you gave him a smug smile—he’s inhaling, preparing for a deep, heavy breath as he sees you sinking back down on his cock.

it’s pulsing, fluttering around your insides as it disappears between your dripping folds, earning a low scratchy hum from him. “do.. hhah- your worst then,” he raises his head, sweat already tearing from every corner of his sleek forehead.

and oh, you do.

one moment, you’re slamming up and down on his fat cock, the next—you’re riding him in reverse. but not only that. all because of the never-ending rolls of your frenetic hips, you milked geto for hours.

his muscles prominently bulged through all the weighty sides of his cock, and he’s sweating profusely, keeping hooded, darkened eyes fixated on you the entire time.

“ugh-” he’d groan, hiccuping at each popping squelch of your cunt. it sounds so pretty in a way.

between your legs - you were forever vocal, letting off occasional sloshing sounds as you slammed up and down against his cock. geto was just downright big ‘n thick, and every single time, he stretched your orifices open like it was nothing. you’re moaning with him, facing directly in front of him while wispy, hot breaths collide against both open mouths.

“ ‘m not sure if i have enough for you this time, princess,” he jibes, tears of sweat racing down the thin edges of his arched brows. “y- you milked me so good.. mmgh- this new stamina of yours though, ‘m lovin’ it.”

“sugu-” you moan against his mouth, bringing sultry kiss after kiss toward all corners and sides of his twitching, rose-colored lips. speaking of lips, they were dripping with strings of his spit, softly sucking against his quivering lower lip as your ass continued to sway around in a circle.

you’re riding him like you were riding a boat, rocking back and forth with your cunt nearly drowning him from how unapologetically wet you were. “ ‘m close, ‘m so close, suguru.” the frantic, unsteady beats of your heart were starting to pick up and it was so loud that it sounded nearly identical to broken, defeaning speakers.

the bed was much louder than you both, screaming out groans of mercy as its creaks nearly drowned out all lustful moans and grunts that sang through the fogged, steamy air..

“yeaah, yeah- gonna cum on me, pretty girl?” geto groans, cupping a hand around one of your bouncy breasts. you whimpered at his gentle touch, your thighs merely sticking against each other from the remnants of pasty cum. geto’s girth of his dick widely expands inside of your clamping walls, and he could feel your legs trying desperately to not squeeze shut.

leaning his head to level up with your chest— he slides his tongue across ‘n around your sensitive nipples - giving it a nice, proper lick. with a loud ‘pop’ that echo from his lips—geto’s half-open eyes look at you while he’s talking with his mouth stuffed full of one of your tits. “mngh- my horny messy girl wants me to get really fuckin’ milked, hm? ‘s that why she’s bein’ so greedy today?”

as he’s still filling you up with his veiny, big inches, you can feel your tongue starting to salivate from the inside with impatience. “ ‘m cummin’ - hahh, cum with me, sugu pleaseplease,” you’re whining, the curling of your thrusting hips accelerating faster.

your arduous speed had the bed groaning louder, and geto’s grunting in your ear once his base’s feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, in-fuckin’-siiiide.”

“ay,” he pops his lips away from your tit before giving it its final loving suck, squeezing your cheeks together. “pretty girl, ‘m gonna getcha full again but you better watch that mouth,” geto eyes you, sneaking a wet, hot kiss against your trembling lips. your body’s just drenched with sweat, and his cock’s searching through your insides while locating all the exact spots perfectly.

clit - check! g-spot - check! a-spot - check!

geto’s swollen crown of his cock was wiiiide, and it made sure to give each erogenous spot inside of your pussy its deserved kisses.

big, grabby hands hold onto your jerking waist and he’s winding your hips against his lap while your mind’s turning into straight mush. it’s all thanks to geto bouncing you up ‘n down on his dick that you could barely think straight. the only thing that was thinking in your mind was that you wanted him to fill you up over and fuckin’ over . .

the incoming high was inevitable - heavenly even, and it’s like a rush that never stops overwhelming through your bloodstream. deeply, the sticky prints of his thumbs pierce into your flesh, and you could see his adam’s apple bobbing once he finally cums. at the same time, you finished too and the feeling was simply orgasmic - literally.

another load bubbles into your cunt as your rotating ass comes to a sudden freeze. shared, breathy breaths fall against each pair of lips as your forehead lies against his. “mngh- suguruuu,” you’d moan, shivering once you felt two of his fingers smack against your leaking pussy. you were filled to the very brim, and despite how he’s still inches deep, he wanted to fill you up just a bit more.

you had him primal now, and geto’s smearing his cum all over the opening of your stuffed cunt before stuffing it back inside. “more, d- don’t stop.”

“wasn’t.. going to,” geto grumbles, letting off a soft prowl once he feels the adhesive-like stick of your pussy keeps its hold on him. you’re addicting, and you’re moaning once he suddenly lifts you from his cream-leaking shaft.

with a spurting ‘pop’ sound, he lies you flat on your back, rubbing his achingly cherry-colored tip over your dripping slit. “fuuuck,” he licks his lips, admiring the filthy sight before gathering a wad of spit in his mouth before with a wet ‘ptou’, geto spits riiight on the outer part of your creamy pussy. “nasty ‘till the end, huh,” he clicks his tongue, inching his head down.

“sugu-”

“ah- not a word from you right now, gorgeous. she’s gotta get a few words in too, hm?” and you whined, hearing the brief ‘slap!’ of his palm make direct contact against your pussy. “now spread these pretty legs for me. ‘m kinda.. hah- starved.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

“oh, h- hoooney,” nanami hiccups, muscly soft arms wrapping around your rickety torso. he’s holding you close, giving you a secure bear hug as your cunt’s just wetly slapping up and down against his twitching cock. you’re so close up to his chest that you feel two things—nanami’s soft, rounded belly, and the dozens of scattered blond chest hair that painted the entirety of his abdomen like a canvas.

the two of you had been at it for hours, and he was practically sticking against your body. sheets and sheets of sweat glue against both rutted bodies as each of you continued to rock rock rock in unsteady sync. he’s been milked stupidly by you, and a viscous trail of cum continued to stick against your thighs as you moved.

“mng- ‘ken,” you’d breathe thickly, hearing each clashing slap! of your pretty hips slam against his thighs each second. his mind’s empty, tied in knots — and speaking of, nanami was preparing to surprise your stuffed pussy with another big knot of his own..

“t- that’s it, don’t stooop,” and as your voice shakes, you’re arching slightly once his tip massages a loooong pattern through your insides. you’re clamping down hard - swerving your hips around in random directions continuously while gripping his ruffled, checkered tie.

“fuck, f- fuuuck,” and nanami’s starting to trail slender, callused fingers toward the edges of your ass.

you’re bouncy - twisting all round ‘n round while focusing your weight on your knees. as you kept moving—you leaned in, shyly biting into his neck. “hah- kentoooo,” you whimper, cutely dragging out his name. his tip thrashing against your g-spot’s got you sounding more dramatic than usual. sneaking four torrid, wet kisses against his slick-spit lips. “c.. can you gimme one more?”

“at this rate, ‘m gonna get you pregnant again too,” he gutturally whispers in response, a hand gently pressing onto your tummy. nanami’s just inside you sooo deep — sooo nice ‘n snug that his thumb swirls across the very center of your stomach before feeling a familiar bulge.

browned, warm eyes look into your eyes before he sighs. “feel that, honey? that’s.. me,” he grunts, talking over your sweet, repetitive wantons of whines. as nanami grabs a nice handful of your ass with his free hand, he nibbles against your earlobe. “but- if my wife wants me to.. fill her up once more, i won’t mind.”

you gasped once nanami suddenly lifted you with care — careful not to hurt you, treating you like a porcelain doll. his roughly-textured hands place you on the flat of the mattress before he’s already aligning his cream-covered tip against your slobbering cunt.

“mhh- how many are we gonna try to make t- this time, sweetheart?” he stammers lowly, smacking his angry vermillion-colored crown against your pussy. he’s met with wet squelch sounds in response from below, and nanami licks his lips before delving his way back inside your compressing entrance. “o.. one? two.. threeee?”

with a pout, your legs were already violently shaking — struggling pathetically, hopelessly trying to stay open but to no avail.

once nanami’s making love to you again. he’s pinning both of your knees up to your chest. “just.. just don’t miss, ‘ken.” you whimper, your voice cracking with each bumpy syllable that slips from your lips. he’s puncturing you deeply with each thrust as if he had some kind of purpose.

deep, deep thrusts..

nanami’s using all vigor of hips - pounding into your precious pussy, dragging out moan after moan from your raw, straining larynx. it was starting to sound a bit hoarse—and each time you swallowed, nanami’s thrusts were more precise.

“b.. baby, you’re really.. hah- gonna.. milk me,” he groans, feeling the back of his thighs starting to gradually tighten. his face buries between your chest, lolling his tongue out before getting a subtle taste of your bouncy tits. “hngh- ‘m gonna get this pretty belly so round, gonna make you a pretty wife again and an even prettier mama.” and as he continues to speak, nanami’s feeling your nails pierce into the ridden flesh of his skin.

“f- fuuuck me, kento. pleasepleaseee, gimme another baby,” you’d whimper, your voice shifting from normal to shaky as his hips start to strike into your very core. he’s fucking you stupid, and he’s also getting dumb himself all thanks to your pussy taking the fatal, wet blows.

it was just something about your warmth. your cunt - it always hugged him, gifting him with a slick hotness he could never put into actual words..

you’re clinging onto nanami tightly - showing your body just how ‘bestial’ his hips could be as he continues to drill into your sobbing pussy. it’s so wet, and he hears it all too. the sweet ‘lil cries that were sounding more like pathetic squelches of mercy, and your chants of his name forming in inaudible babbles were just the icing on the cake.

“mngh- upsie-daisy, honey,” nanami groans, gently pushing your legs over your head. now, he’s got a straight view of your face that’s just covered with glistening sweat. the more nanami’s pupils dilate at the pure sight of you — his beloved wife, he sees how you’re just effortlessly kissed by the sun’s rays that shined near the bedroom window. pangs of pleasure coarse through your veins and his, and nanami’s just about at his very limit.

once he cums for the nth time - it’s even thicker than before. his rounded belly laid flat against your chest with his blond happy trail tickling against your tummy. you’re whimpering, covering his back with scratches before he pops a velvety, hot knot deep inside of your greedy cunt.

“mhm,” you’d coo out in satisfied surprise, hearing nanami’s breath hitch against the lobe of your ear. a lot of it dribbles out of you, pouring down to your hole and staining into the sage-colored bedsheets. nanami’s hips pause, and he’s just allowing you to milk him dry, filling you gallon after gallon with cum.

“a- again,” you’d mewl airily with a pouted puckered out lip, bringing a leg to wrap around his waist. nanami’s got a timid smile, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. of course you wanted more.

nanami wriggles his hips ever so slightly, making sure he had all of his load stuffed inside of your dripping pussy before caressing your right cheek with his thumb lovingly.

“my, and i thought my breeding kink was bad during this time of year,” and as he’s still inside of you, you moaned, feeling nanami’s cock pop its way out between your puffy-drooled slit before sliding its way back in. those loud sloshing sounds of your slippery pussy was so carnal - and he could just listen to it all day.

you couldn’t help but gasp again, feeling nanami lift your legs behind your head before giving you a long, fervent-tasting kiss. “but fine, one - hah, more.. load for the pretty wife comin’ right up..”

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hoooly.. fuckin’ shiiiit, baby,” satoru hisses, drawing in drafty breath after breath as he watches the fat of your ass slam back against his sticky, meaty thighs for the zillionth time.

constantly, you’re placing all your weight down into your knees as your hips rocked and rocked. satoru leans back, holding back sultry-sounding moans as his leaking tip sloppily swipes a wet stripe up ‘n down the opening hood of your clit.

he’s in so deep, and he’s still trying to get over his most recent release. “look at her - so fuckin’ sloppy,” satoru puckers his lips, letting off a teasing low ‘ooooh’ once he ogles down at the translucently white ring that wraps around his cock. it coats all nth-inches of his shaft as he’s still weakly thrusting his hips up against your pussy that’s thrusting riiiight back down.

he hears the rubber streeetch at each pumping thrust and it’s just so loud. with a loud ‘snap!’ it ends up breaking mid-thrust.

polished, peach-colored lips of his tremble at the electrifying friction of striking skin and he grunts throatily once his cum-covered tip swerves its way past your clit be for jackhammering a single thrust near your g-spot. “mmngh- ‘toru, fuck,” you’d whine out a gargled sob, wobbling your lurching ass back into his bare lap. as you bring a hand toward the back of your rear, you spread the left cheek apart before arching a bit more forward. “s.. satoru- might..hhaah- as well.. take it off before you cum.”

it didn’t take much for him to realize the ‘it’ you wanted to be taken off — was the broken rubber. by now, it’s probably stuffed with satoru’s cum from previous rounds, but you only imagined how much better he’d feel raw..

“heeeh- and you call me the nasty one in the relationship,” he grunts, brushing a thumb down your dripping pussy. your rhythm was as slow as ever, and his sapphire-shaded irises just couldn’t depart from your body. not for a single second. you still had your panties on too—but the grey string was pulled to the side, all thanks to satoru.

you moaned at the touch of his wiry, padded thumb gliding a straight line down your sopping-wet pussy. with a single hand, satoru snatches the clear, sticky condom off his cock - hearing the subtle ‘riiiip’ noise occur from his current action.

“f.. fuuuck,” satoru groans, raising your hips for a second then removed the broken rubber. he’s damn close - soso close, and his jaw tightens. as it’s now removed from around the entirety of his length, it leaves a bit of printing ring around the lower part of his dick, and a prominent vein shoots its way up his skin once the cool air hits it. “baby- ‘m not gonna last long if ‘m gonna.. hah- finish inside you raw, y’know.”

with a roused hum leaving from your pursed lips, you give your ass a cute spank before wriggling your dripping cunt against satoru’s flushed, ruby tip. “good. finish inside, baby,” and satoru’s breath gets caught in his throat once he sees your fingers spreading the lower dripping lips of your pussy apart. “riiiight in here, fill me up, s- satoru.”

your filthy, needy words against his ear slid from your lips so smooth like honey. he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you — more importantly, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your pretty, jostling ass. it’s almost taunting him with the way it moves ‘n wriggles around his pelvis in an alluring circle. “ffuck, baby. know t- that’s right, ride that fuckin’ dick- ngh-” and a whine rips straight from his throat once he sees you slooowly arching inward.

his tip wetly slides its way from between your sniveling cunt as you bent forward - letting him view the dried-up stringy strands of cum that were glued against your sprawled apart thighs.

“mhmm,” you bite back a moan through clenched teeth, wrapping a hand around his veiny cock. you align yourself back on his dick, and his veins immediately malfunction from the sheer hot rawness of your slick, weeping pussy. “pussy’s all yours ‘toru,” you hummed, hearing his gasping ‘oh shiiiit’ ‘s huff out from his lips once he’s bottoming out again.

“f- fuckin’ damn right she is,” he grumbles, reclining himself back, giving your left cheek a whacking spank. you’re moaning once your jolty hips start up again, riding him in reverse with your ass hitting back against his lap repeatedly. with how impactful you slammed back into his lap, each rigid bounce of your ass was just seismic - and satoru’s just … about … there.

he’s hearing ring after ring in his ears, and it’s got his empty mind going for a whirl. your pussy was just ruthless - almost unfair at how good you milked him each time. satoru’s ethereal icy-like pupils that were fully dilated mindlessly lulled to the back of his head. “god- ‘m gonna give you another,” he moans, hearing those same smack smack smacks of your cunt messily pounce back into his lap. the way you rode him in backward oh-so flawlessly, - it was just so… risqué.

the enticingly, saturated grip your pussy had on satoru’s cock was enough to make him drool. as skin continued to rude crudely clash into each other at full speed—creating a sharp unforgettable collision, and it was not long before satoru’s bursting blanks yet again.

this time though - actually inside you.

a looooong, raspy groan scratches from his throat but it’s sounding a bit more high-pitched if anything. he’s inside you raw - finishing inside you raw, and satoru’s gripping your ass with one hand while whining your name into your neck.

“mhm-hm, good girl, oh- s.. shiiit ‘s still comin’,” he breathes deeply, seconds after dumping a fresh buttery load of cum inside. as he’s spasming underneath you—his thighs felt glued to the mattress, and his knot floods into your cum-filled pussy. “damn.. she’s.. hah- more of a slut than you are, look at it spillin’ all out.. f- fuuck, baby-”

“don’t stop now, satoru,” you’d hold in between raucous breaths, still feeling his lustrously, syrupy cum trickling inside of you.

it shoots deep deep deep - pouring into your womb in thick, slimy molasses. satoru’s staring the entire time, bright-eyed ‘n bushy-tailed practically, melting at the way your cunt swallows all ribbons of his seed as if its thirst was finally quenched. well - almost.

“mng- one more, baby,” and he grunts, feeling your ass playfully rooooll into another circling toss. your pussy slaps back down against his cum-oozing tip before you hunch over his lap once again. “ ‘toruuu, one more.”

“my girl’s never satisfied, huh,” satoru dryly laughs, squinting to get a clear good look at your pussy that’s just overflowed with ropes and ropes of velvety, hot cum. for a split second - satoru pulls out, in awe at the sight of his cum streams out your slick orifices. it’s so creamy, and he moaned, still feeling the intensity of his body as his tip silently aching to give you another fill.

your back’s still prettily arched over to a certain degree—and you crane your neck slightly to give him a frisky simper as he continues to play between your thighs. “especially h.. her too,” and satoru’s thumb swipes up a few remains of his cum that wetly sobbed down the slot of your entrance. after a while, he’s even starting to hear his jagged breathing pick up before he aligns his florid-colored tip between your slit again.

as you’re holding in choked moans by biting the inside of your cheek, satoru sits up—making you lean allll the way forward until your cheek’s pressed into the cushioned pillow.

you’re not riding him anymore - instead, he wanted to see the pretty view from behind this time.

“hah- f- fine then,” and he’s grunting, poking his tip in ‘n out of your pearly, drooling pussy before slickly easing it into place. “gotta show this pussy wha- o- ooooh fuck, ‘m cummin’ a-again.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

“oh! my fans love you, baby, look.” choso timidly grins, holding in a guttural groan each time your ass steeply bounces right back into his lap.

the room was dim with hardly any light except for the exception of choso’s multi-colored monitor that flashed with pretty colors of LED lights. his stream mostly included the dedicated audience of his 6.9k viewers who usually spammed his chats with thousands upon thousands of lewd, unserious comments all at once.

it was mainly comments specifically saying how you’re just so pretty, how they wish they were you, and egging you on to make choso whine just a liiiitle bit more.

“h.. hi, chat,” you’d huff out in jagged breaths. all you took was a single side glance toward his set-up, but you were sure that thanks to his special guest - he was about to reach 7k viewers within no time.

choso liked including you in his streams—it’s usually not with you riding him, but you were more than willing to entertain his viewers for a little while. he was celebrating a milestone, and the best gift he could’ve ever got was you - you and your dangerous, rocking hips that he was forever obsessed with.

every few seconds, he’d hear that re-occurring ‘ping!’ notification whenever someone donated.

your ass moved like water — so perfect.

your body - it sensually rocked against choso’s lap as your feverishly wet lips pressed against the crook of his neck. “mhm- ‘y always make me feel s.. so good,” he shivers at your lukewarm touch, taking a few blurred peers at the gleamingly-bright screen that shined back into his face.

“hey- look at me,” you’d coo, pressing clammy hands at each side of his face. tousled, inky-shaded strands slit down the corners of his forehead before he meets your gaze. instantaneously, choso softens at your touch, letting off a sweet whine once your thumb rubs against the scarred bridge of his nose.

“they’re not riding you, i am, choso,” and right at that exact moment, your cunt lets out a sobbing wet squelch that makes all jolting limbs judder in an elated frenzy. “so let’s give ‘em a show, hm?”

“y- yes, mommy.” choso locks eyes with you, his pupils dilating and he’s hearing the booming loud sounds of his heart thump-thump-thumping straight out of his bare sweat-covered chest.

“mommy?” you tease at the sudden term.

“b.. baby, i mean.” he grunts, one of his hands fishing down toward the lower part of your jerking ass.

he’s so impatient - so eager to just give you another one of his loads. choso’s stream’s probably been running for about a good two and a half hours—and with the way you were riding him, he didn’t ever want you to stop.

your hips were gonna make choso fall in love all over again. embarrassingly enough, choso’s face heats up at his sudden slip up of calling you ‘mommy’ but he couldn’t lie, the moment he called you that, he felt the tip of his dick twitch in rousing thrill.

pound, after pound, after fuckin’ pound. .

by this point — you were the one fucking choso, and he didn’t even mind at all. he’s louder than you, his gruff whines and whimpers turned more melodic at each cute cracking strain. “pleaaase- please, fuck me, fuuuck me- milk me.” he starts to ramble, gasping once you lightly push him flat back against the pillow.

his fall from your playful shove was soft - not as soft as your insides though. your pussy’s just squeezing onto him, preparing to wring him dry like a wet, soggy towel.

choso’s tongue lolls out his mouth and he’s panting rapidly like a dog - moaning once you attack sloppy, unkempt kisses onto his bitten, raw lips.

they’re a hot pink, glossed with saliva and he’s even starting to drool from the very corners all because of your slippery, hot pussy trying to suffocate his cock with your gripping warmth. “hng- good boy, ‘cho. let your fans hear you,” you whisper, bringing your trail of kisses toward the lower part of his bottom lip. then, you reach toward his chin, giving the tubby part of skin a playful nibble. “cum again for me, choso. ‘s okay.”

the piles of donations continue - loudly pinging, and his chat’s just being flooded with even more thirsty, needy fans direly wishing they were in your place or hell - maybe even being in choso’s place instead. .

“ ‘m cumming- hold me, baby, ‘m fuckinnn’-” and he gets cut off, feeling the lower half of his body erupt into such final stages of utter rapture.

he’s so hot that it feels like an active volcano, and in reality—the magma is his cum—hotly spurting inside of you, bubbling in thick, frothy bubbles before oozing right back out. you’re both moaning in sync, and choso’s face is just shading into a ripe shade of vibrant red as he’s letting out such a large load.

he’s awkwardly clinging onto your hips the entire time as he holds you close, and he takes one single peek at his chat that’s still virtually cheering him on in the background.

‘choso my goat finally getting some pussy? 2025 is off to a great start!’

‘she is sooo hot.’

‘me when me when me when.’

even though the majority of them were clowning him like always - he grumps, shifting his focus back towards you as he’s still pumping in such viscid, milky ropes.

you’re slowing down finally, rolling your hips around before coming to a halt as you’re whimpering into his neck. choso’s got a sleazy grin - and oh, he was the literal epitome of pussy drunk. he’s filled you up so much that it got to his head, and his clingy hold against your ass never left.

in fact, he squeezes it tighter - giving it a soft spank before shyly burying his face in between your tits - his comfort place. “can we.. do that again?” he pouts, hissing once he feels the mere non-existent bouncing of your hips.

already - he’s missed it, but he was still giving you a fresh nice ‘n hot creampie so it’s not like choso was one to complain.

he’s bringing his thin-pressed lips up to yours before kissing you, whining impatiently against your mouth as you contemplated a reply. “i- i want you to milk me again-” and he reaches in, shutting his laptop.

“hhaah- with no one watching this time. just us. p.. please, mommy?”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck, didn’t know a pretty thing like you knew how to ride s- so fuh- fuuuck,” toji stammers over his words, getting rudely cut off by the clashing slams of your whetted, brutal hips.

toji slouches further back in his rocking chair before raising his pinched front cowboy hat. its jet-black — flawlessly matching his eyes, and a piece of straw stuck from between his scarred lips. tilting his hat downward, he gets a picture-perfect view of your pretty, perked ass riding him ‘round in reverse.

toji’s full weighted base was stacked - just pumped and stuffed with so many milky, dewy wads. it’s been rounds - and you’ve already milked him to the max. but you wanted to milk him again, and again, and again..

at first, toji thought you were interested in milking the actual cows in his feedlots - but oh, you wanted to milk him instead.

“mhm- what’s.. the matter, cowboy?” you breathe, bringing your hands to hold onto his knees for leverage. you heard the clanking loud clanks of toji’s cowboy boots occasionally slam into the dusted ground. your cunt’s just feral at this point, and he’s grunting hoarsely as he sees your body ride him better than you did of any of his horses. “too much stamina for you? maybe i should.. hah- slow down.”

“quiet, ‘lil girl,” he hisses at you, swatting a black-gloved hand at the rotating globe of your ass. with just a rippling smack, your skin instantly jiggles at the contact of his palm and it makes his dick twitch inside you. speaking of, his crowned tip - it’s an angry, carmine shade of red that’s akin to a pepper. the tight-fitted mahogany-colored chaps that toji wore were loosely pulled down, his jangling buckle barely hanging on to his slim waist. “don’t slow down. better ride me good, atta girlie— fuuckk.”

despite how toji was trying his hardest to keep up his prim façade - he knew, he was no match for your sweet, sweet cunt..

“mng- now now, darlin’ . . fuck,” he brings two thick fingers up toward the dip part of his hat as ravened skinny bangs nearly shield his emerald eyesight. your hips had more horsepower than anything, and he’s clenching his jaw at the same time as you’re clenching down on his throbbing cock.

toji felt soooo full, fuller than he’s ever been—and he’s hearing those slippery, sloppy sloshes sing away from your pussy like a lewd western tune of its own.

your ass was sharp and very, very precise. just one smack against his wet lap and toji’s losing all sorts of a train of thought. “good- good fuckin’ girl, put those h…hips-” he lowly purrs, pausing for a second to swallow. “put those hips ‘ta work for me. ride me then- make me proud, heh- cowgiiiirl.”

but once toji gets a wild wild wild taste of cloying overstim - it’s fuckin’ over.

your hips were disgusting - in every best way possible. it didn’t take long at all for his smug act to tear away though, and now, you had an utterly milked-out cowboy right underneath you.

he’s been ringed dry, and he’s probably pumped out such webby masses of cum inside of your pussy. you felt so stuffed, and toji’s barely able to keep up with your stamina. your constant bouncing had him dizzy - and you watched as his hat fell from the crown of his head, falling to the pile of hay that surrounded you both near the wooden century-old chair.

“hng- fuck,” he groans huskily, clicking his tongue at the sharp swats of your clapping ass. his turgid cock’s stretched inside you through ‘n though, and with a single, stretchy thrust - he’s french kissing his way near your convulsing g-spot. he hits that same spot thrice - not once, not two - but thrice, and he sees how your mind’s already starting to go blank just from your cute dumbfounded expression. “h.. heh, what’s the matter, darlin’? no more horsepo- ngh-”

as your ass kept up its crazed pace of slamming up ‘n down on his heavy shaft, you wrapped a hand around toji’s throat. the milked-out cowboy eyes you intently, feeling your soft hand slide around the fabric of his verdant-colored bandana. “less talking, more hahh- milkin’.” you moan, giving his neck a slight squeeze. toji lets out a moan - a slutty one at that, and you spot that glint in his eye.

he’s always been one for a challenge, especially a pretty ‘lil cowgirl who dared to compete with him in riding.

in the background - it’s just the faint sounds of bellowing moos and neighs from the animals nearby in the other stalls. as toji’s wholly milked out, his meaty thighs felt like they were permanently stuck against yours like velcro.

he’s at an utter loss of words—quietly groaning as your cunt swallows up every drop, greedily demanding more and more fills. “f- fuck, y’er quite the rider,” he breathes, burying the soles of his boots into the ground. “ugh- ‘m gonna c.. cum again, doll- shit.”

with your hips purposely stuttering over his lap, toji's head sexily tilts back to a certain degree. you gawk as his black lashes flutter - and he’s feeling each vigorous slam of your ass pound back into his naturally sculptured pelvis. toji’s groaning, running his gloved fingers up your waist, trying oh-so-hard to control the movement of your hips but failing miserably.

“inside again,” you moaned, rubbing your thumb near the lump that grew inside of his throat. toji’s mushroomy-flushed tip was just redly swollen, throbbing sporadically, and on the verge of being emptied once again, and if he wasn’t pussy-drunk then - he definitely was now.

“mngh- better h- hold on, m’lady,” toji grunts, gripping your ass firmly. he hears the latex of his gloves squeaaak against your jarring flesh, and he’s letting off continuous hoarse ‘phew’ ‘s as your sloppy cunt prepares to milk him again.

you’re rolling your waist ‘round in a whirring circle like it’s going for a spin, making sure to focus your weight in the centers of your knees. while the skin continues to pierce against skin in such a loud manner - your pussy’s just sobbing from each sloppy thrust.

toji heard it too - and his dicks’s almost sympathetic, gifting it a few syrupy ‘love taps’ with its tip as it concludes its final sloppy hits.

once toji cums - he cums hard.

he’s shooting yet another thick batch inside of you raw, feeling your quavery thighs clamp shut as he’s filling you to the utmost brim. it’s parchingly hot, and toji’s seed gradually travels its way deep into your womb. “hhah- atta girl, thereeee w- we go,” he groans, still having his fingers dug into the soft globes of your ass. you’re panting just as much as he was, and your mouth suddenly grows dry once toji’s cum starts to dribble out in cottony, satiny clumps.

for once - he’s speechless, and toji’s barely able to keep his eyes open. perhaps this time, he’s really milked out because his cock inside of you felt like it was floating. his tip’s still leaking from all reddened sides but in very small amounts, and he’s holding onto your waist with the piece of straw still sticking out from between his scarred lips. “ngh- maybe i was wrong about ‘cha, doll. you- you can ride damn good, that’s for sur-”

“i didn’t say stop, cowboy,” you bite the end of the wheat with your teeth, picking up his cowboy hat and placing it on top of your head. “c’mon, one more.. hah- riding session for the road, huh?”

with a sly, crooked smile, toji scoffs, beads of sweat streaming down all corners of his face. the overgrown bangs of hair that stuck against his forehead were all muggy from the various rounds that occurred - giving him a bit of a greasy look as his skin ricocheted against the sun’s bright rays.

“h.. heh,” and he gives your ass its final spank, the leather of his glove tickling against your flesh before he tilts his cowboy hat that remained tilted on your head. “yes ma’am.”

13K notes · View notes

danysdaughter · 22 days ago

Text

Still Yours

pairing | thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 9.4k words

summary | bucky lets his relationship slip into the background for the sake of duty and public image. but when the distance starts to break them, he realizes he’ll do anything to fight for the love he almost lost.

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, soft!bucky, miscommunication, established relationship, mentions of mental health/trauma

a/n | I enjoyed writing this so much omg. an apology for my last angst fest fic, based on this request. just two emotionally constipated dumbasses in love.

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

The first thing you felt was the drag of his mouth along your collarbone—hot, wet, unhurried.

Then his body—solid, heavy, familiar—settled deeper between your thighs, pinning you to the sheets like he belonged there.

Like he knew he belonged there.

“Fuck,” Bucky rasped, hips rolling in slow, punishing thrusts that pulled gasps from your throat. “You feel so good—always feel so fuckin’ good…”

Your legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into the curve of his ass, urging him deeper.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he panted, forehead resting against yours. “Come on, I know you’re close.”

You could barely form words. Everything was heat and friction and the slow climb to a peak that had been building for days. He’d been gone—missions, briefings, whatever other bullshit Val had piled on him—and you hadn’t had this, hadn’t had him, in far too long.

Now, you were starving for him.

And from the way he was panting against your mouth, he was just as gone for you.

Bucky’s rhythm faltered for a second—just a split moment—as his cock pulsed deep inside you and he moaned, low and wrecked.

Then—bzzzt.

The phone on the nightstand lit up.

The sound sliced through the heat like cold water.

You groaned, your hands clawing into his shoulders, nails dragging down the flex of his back. “Ignore it,” you muttered, voice thick.

He nodded without looking, mouth already on your throat again. “Wasn’t gonna stop.”

Bzzzt.

He hesitated. You felt the tension in his hips, the shift in his weight. The way his hand twitched like he wanted to grab it—like his fucking conditioning made him twitch toward the sound.

“James,” you growled, pulling his face back to yours. “Focus.”

He smirked—flushed, wild-eyed, strands of hair clinging to his sweat-damp forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

He rocked back into you, deeper this time, harder. You gasped, arching into him, fingernails biting into his arms.

“You’re such a good girl,” he grunted, “always take me so—”

Bzzzt.

The sound felt louder now.

Persistent.

You tensed beneath him, and he slowed—just a fraction. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

You whispered, dangerously low, “James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you dare.”

He paused. Exhaled. “I won’t,” he murmured.

And he didn’t.

Not when you kissed him. Not when your legs tightened around him again, pulling him back into that rhythm. Not when your hips met his in frantic, greedy movement, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

But then—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Buzzing. Relentless.

Like it knew it was ruining something.

His rhythm faltered again. Slower this time. His breath hitched.

And you could see it—feel it—his mind slipping.

“Two seconds, baby,” he whispered, barely coherent.

Then he reached.

You froze. Staring.

He reached for the phone.

“For fuck’s sake—” You shoved his chest, hard enough to make him fall back slightly, the weight of him disappearing as you slid out from under him.

“What?” he asked, dazed, already answering the call. “Where’re you going?”

You grabbed your robe from the edge of the bed, slipping it on in one fluid motion, not even sparing him a glance as you stalked toward the kitchen.

“To make a goddamn sandwich,” you snapped over your shoulder.

And then Bucky was left there, shirtless and half-hard, with the call pressed to his ear and the echo of your frustration ringing louder than the goddamn phone ever did.

────────────────────────

The quiet creak of the bedroom door broke through the stillness as you stood at the kitchen counter, barefoot, chewing slowly on the sandwich you’d slapped together out of spite and mild hunger. Your tiny silk robe hugged your hips, and the morning light from the window behind you cast a low, golden glow across your back.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t need to.

You could feel him watching you—feel the apology radiating off him before he even spoke.

A few seconds later, Bucky padded into the kitchen fully dressed, freshly showered, dog tags glinting faintly beneath his shirt collar. His hair was still damp, slicked back lazily with his fingers.

Your stomach twisted.

He stopped beside you, hands in his pockets, jaw tense. “It’s the team.”

You nodded, still chewing.

You didn’t need him to say it. You’d known the second that phone buzzed three times in a row.

“In the city?”

He nodded. “Watchtower. Just a briefing. Maybe recon. Shouldn’t be long.”

You nodded again, finishing the bite and setting the crust on the plate. The silence stretched.

Bucky leaned in, crowding into your space slightly like he always did when he needed you to ground him. “You angry?”

You sighed, licking a crumb from your bottom lip. Then you turned, finally facing him, and your arms slid easily around his neck.

He exhaled the moment you touched him—like that one gesture released the tension wrapped around his ribs.

“No,” you murmured, voice quiet but firm. “I’m not angry.”

His arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You sure?”

You nodded into his shoulder. “I know what I signed up for. You’re out there saving the world.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brows furrowed, voice softer now. “Still. Doesn’t mean I don’t hate leaving.”

You looked up at him for a long beat, reading the guilt in his eyes. Then, deadpan:

“Well. You did spend the last ten minutes of our morning trying to ignore your phone while balls-deep in me. I’d call that balance.”

He huffed a low, surprised laugh, forehead dropping to yours. “Jesus Christ.”

You shrugged, lips twitching. “Hey. You asked.”

He kissed you, slow and lingering, and whispered against your mouth, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You pulled back just enough to give him that classic stare—the flat one that usually made Bob flinch.

“Honestly?” you said, voice dry. “Just the luck of the draw, hon.”

Bucky barked out a real laugh this time, low and raspy. “That sounds about right.”

You smiled—small, real—then leaned in and brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. His hand trailed down your spine, fingers resting at the hem of your robe, his lips ghosting along your jaw now.

“I told them I’d be there in fifteen.”

“Mmhm.”

“But the drive’s only ten.”

You hummed, finishing your sip of water, eyes moving to your sandwich.

“So,” he murmured, mouth back at your ear now, voice dipping low, “technically that gives us five minutes to finish what we started.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze under lowered lashes.

The look in his eyes was full of hope. And want. And a little desperation.

You kissed him—once, slow and sultry—letting him feel your mouth move over his.

Then you pulled back, just enough to whisper against his lips, “Mm. No.”

He blinked. “What?”

You turned, picking your sandwich back up and walking away toward the couch. “You already finished once today. Let a girl eat.”

Behind you, Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re evil.”

“And yet, here you are,” you called over your shoulder, settling down and flipping through the remote like your thighs weren’t still sticky from him.

He watched you for a second longer, eyes lingering like he was committing you to memory. Then he sighed, picked up his jacket, and headed for the door.

“Call me after?” you said casually.

He looked back, already halfway out.

“Always.”

────────────────────────

The conference room in the Watchtower was, unfortunately, real. Sterile and over-lit with its polished black table and transparent display screens, it felt more like the waiting room of a tech-startup funeral than the nerve center of the New Avengers.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, jaw clenched, half-listening as Val paced in front of a projected graph that looked like it was bleeding red. His phone buzzed once in his pocket—his eyes flicked down—but it wasn’t you, and the hollow ache behind his ribs twisted a little deeper.

This was the thing that had pulled him away. Not a mission. Not a world-ending threat. Just PR bullshit.

Val tapped the screen with her manicured finger like it had personally offended her. “The numbers are bad. Public trust in the New Avengers is declining, and fast. People don’t like what they don’t recognize. And right now, you’re a bunch of strangers with messy optics and zero cohesion.”

At her side, Mel nodded without looking up from her tablet. “Engagement down 22% week-over-week. Headlines are skewing nostalgic. Keywords trending: ‘wish Cap was back,’ ‘where’s the heart,’ and ‘vigilante vibes.’”

Yelena lounged back in her chair like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her feet were propped on the table’s edge, one boot bouncing with slow, deliberate disinterest. “Maybe they’re just mourning the glory days,” she muttered, twisting her gum around her finger. “Old team got shiny deaths and glossy documentaries. We get memes.”

Ava, seated across from her, gave a quiet snort. “We’re not here to trend. We’re here to finish missions.”

Val didn’t even blink. “You’re here to represent global security and inspire public trust. And without that trust, you’re nothing more than privately-funded vigilantes in almost matching gear.”

“I like our gear,” Alexei rumbled helpfully from the end, arms crossed over his chest like a stubborn bear.

Val spared him a look. “You’re the closest thing we have to comic relief, Alexei. Lean into it.”

“Is that what they call ‘noble heroism’ now?” he huffed.

Walker sat ramrod straight, jaw working, his suit perfectly zipped. “You think Cap worried about popularity? We’re not running a fashion campaign.”

“No,” Val said flatly. “But Cap didn’t publicly decapitate someone with a shield on live television either.”

Yelena snorted. “Yikes.”

John’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Point is,” Val continued, “you all need a rebrand. Yelena—your personality makes you relatable. Media loves you. You’ll handle most interviews.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Great. I’ll practice my ‘Good Morning, America’ smile.”

“Ava,” Val said, turning, “your trauma narrative plays well. But lean into redemption. Soft lighting. No more disappearing mid-interview.”

Ava’s response was a flat stare. “I’ll try not to phase through my own dignity.”

Val didn’t even acknowledge the jab.

“John,” she said, and his head snapped up like a soldier awaiting orders. “Less cowboy, more Captain. Smile more. No threats on-camera. Pretend you like people.”

He scoffed under his breath, muttering something about “hand-holding and fairy tales.”

“Alexei,” she said, deadpan, “people like the Soviet uncle bit. Keep it up.”

Alexei beamed.

“Bob, you’re doing fine. Stay polite. And no more jokes about punching through tanks, they’re fact-checking you.”

Bob looked vaguely hurt. “It was metaphorical.”

Val finally turned her gaze to Bucky, her expression shifting slightly—not warmer, but sharper, more calculated. She paced a slow step closer to where he sat, hands clasped behind her back like a politician delivering bad news with a smile.

“You, Barnes, are the key,” she said simply. “You’re the most recognized face on this team, and not just because of your past as the Winter Soldier.”

She gestured toward the screen behind her, now displaying a montage of Bucky’s appearances—post-congressional interviews, old wartime footage, newer press photos where he stood stoically beside Sam.

“You were a war hero before you were ever the Winter Soldier. Sergeant James Barnes, the Howling Commando, the man who fought beside Captain America during the most iconic conflict of the 20th century. And, until very recently, a U.S. Congressman advocating for post-snap veteran reform. Your file reads like a patriotic fantasy novel.”

Bucky didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But something in his jaw ticked.

Val leaned in a little, her voice softening, but not with kindness—just control.

“What we need now is that Bucky. The leader. The charming, respectful, golden-era face people want to believe in. Friendly. Accessible. And most importantly…”

She paused.

“Available.”

That made Bucky’s eyes lift, expression tightening. “You do know I have a girlfriend, right? I’m in a committed relationship.”

Val didn’t miss a beat. “One the public doesn’t know about. And doesn’t need to.”

He sat forward slightly, steel entering his voice. “You’re asking me to lie.”

“No,” Val said, waving a hand. “I’m asking you to protect her. Think of it this way—if no one knows who she is, no one can leverage her. No threats. No gossip. No crossfire. It’s smarter this way.”

Mel tapped her tablet again. “We’ve already scrubbed mentions, just in case. Nothing linking her name to yours comes up in connection to the New Avengers.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He hated this. Every inch of it.

“Why is it so important that I look ‘available’?” he asked flatly.

Val’s smile sharpened. “Because people want to like you. And people like what they want. It’s a psychological pull. You become more desirable, more approachable—someone they imagine they could know. That they could be with. It builds trust, makes you more likable. Marketable.”

He stared at her for a long beat.

“You want to make me into a fantasy.”

“I want to make you into a symbol,” Val corrected coolly. “And symbols don’t get girlfriends.”

Across the room, Yelena let out a low, mocking whistle. “Wow. That’s not creepy at all.”

Ava shook her head. “What’s next? Tinder profiles and fan edits?”

John rolled his eyes. “It’s optics. We all knew this came with the job.”

But Bucky barely heard them. His mind was already drifting—to you, still barefoot in the kitchen, silk robe sliding over bare thighs, chewing your sandwich with zero interest in who he was to the rest of the world. Just who he was to you.

And now, he had to pretend you didn’t exist.

He didn’t respond. Just sat back in his chair and regretted every second he hadn’t spent in your arms this morning.

────────────────────────

The Watchtower always smelled like metal and over-sterilized air. You hated it.

Fluorescents buzzed overhead as you stepped off the elevator, holding a small, zippered pouch in your hand—the charger Bucky had forgotten, again, even though you reminded him three times before he left.

The place felt like a cross between a tech firm and a concrete bunker: all gray walls, touchscreen doors, and state-mandated potted plants.

The main floor—what passed for a communal living space—was half chaos, half nap zone. Yelena was sprawled on one end of the sectional couch, flipping through something on her tablet and eating dried mango slices from a bag she probably stole from someone else.

Ava stood leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watching the room like she was waiting for someone to step out of line so she could phase them through a floor. Bob was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a comic book held way too close to his face, murmuring what you assumed was commentary under his breath.

Alexei was telling a story. Loudly. And probably badly.

Bucky spotted you first. He was standing near the open kitchen area, talking with Mel—Val’s too-efficient assistant who always looked like she was plotting the next step of a corporate coup.

His entire expression changed when he saw you. The tension in his shoulders dropped a little, the corner of his mouth lifted, and for a second, he didn’t look like the unofficial leader of a barely-tethered government strike team. He just looked like your boyfriend.

You handed him the charger without ceremony.

“You left this.”

He took it with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck like it was the first time he’d ever been caught forgetting something (it wasn't). “Thanks. Thought I had it packed.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the “p.”

You didn’t mean to stay. You weren’t supposed to linger. But Bucky motioned for you to walk with him, and you didn’t say no.

Up close, you noticed the tired edge in his face. Like whatever conversation he’d been having before you arrived had worn him down more than a mission ever could.

He told you about it—about Val’s latest brainstorm. That the team needed to be more “media-friendly.” That they wanted him to lean into the good ol’ days: Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, WWII hero, former Congressman, the smile-that-could-end-wars poster boy.

You listened without interrupting, arms crossed, eyes squinting toward the ceiling as you tried to think through what he was actually saying.

When he finished, you just shrugged.

“Well,” you said, “sounds like when celebrities fake relationships before a movie comes out. Or pretend they’re single to sell tickets.”

Bucky blinked. “How do you even know that?”

You gave him a flat look, expression unreadable. “I was born in 1995, babe. Not the fucking 40s.”

Behind him, Walker snorted loudly. He’d been pretending not to listen, but of course he was.

“Damn,” he said, leaning against the fridge like he was waiting for someone to ask for his input (nobody did). “My wife would’ve never let me get away with that.”

You turned to look at him. Not annoyed. Not even angry. Just blank. Like staring at a particularly ugly lamp in a hotel room.

“That’s why she’s your ex-wife,” you said, voice calm. “And good for her.”

Yelena, without looking up from her tablet, let out a noise that might’ve been a laugh. Ava smirked quietly. Even Alexei stopped mid-sentence to grin like someone had dropped his favorite sitcom back into rotation.

Bucky watched all of it happen with a complicated kind of amusement. But it didn’t last.

Because then he had to say the next part.

He rubbed his hands down your arms, slow and hesitant, like bracing you.

“Val advised…” he started, then caught himself. “She recommended that maybe—for now—you don’t come around the tower. Or get seen with us in general.”

He didn’t say “hide.” He didn’t have to.

Your face didn’t change much. Not really. But he saw it. That tiny prickle of tension in your jaw. The slight shift in your eyes when you looked away from him for just a second too long.

You muttered something low. A lazy, “Whatever.” But the way you pulled your arms away said everything.

“I need to go anyway.”

Bucky stepped closer, voice soft but strained. “You don’t have to leave right away.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, eyes unreadable, lips pressed in that almost-smile that wasn’t really a smile at all.

Then you leaned in and kissed his cheek, slow and warm, the way you always did when you were trying not to let the weight of something show.

“See you at home,” you murmured.

Your voice dipped at the end, barely above a whisper as you pulled back. “If you’re still allowed to come home, anyway.”

It wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t bitter.

It was worse.

It was tired.

Before he could answer, before he could say anything at all, you turned and walked to the elevator, the soft sound of your footsteps swallowed by the Watchtower’s chaos.

He didn’t follow.

And that hurt more than you cared to admit.

────────────────────────

It was slow. Almost imperceptible, at first.

A missed call here. A text left on “read” longer than usual. A two-day mission becoming a four-day stretch at the tower. No big fights. No yelling. No doors slammed.

Just quiet.

But that was the thing about quiet—Bucky had lived in it for too long. He knew its weight. Knew how it filled rooms like fog, hiding the way things shifted underneath.

Now, it was in everything.

He sat on the edge of his bed in the Watchtower, staring at the wall, phone still in hand from a message he hadn’t sent. His thoughts weren’t here—weren’t in this too-bright room, or with Val’s next debrief, or on the press event they had the next morning.

They were in Brooklyn.

Your shared apartment. The one with the soft light and creaky floorboards, and the tiny espresso machine you swore was better than anything Bucky had ever tasted. That place was home. It smelled like your lavender detergent and your coconut shampoo and your weirdly specific collection of candles labeled things like “wet grass” and “Scandinavian night.”

His body ached to be there. Just... there. On the couch. Next to you.

He used to spend three days a week here, tops. Two, if he could push it. The rest he’d guard selfishly for you—days spent sleeping beside you, cooking breakfast together, reading on opposite ends of the couch while your foot found his thigh and stayed there. You’d talk to him, let the silence stretch and snap and re-stitch. You never pushed. You never pried.

You were his quiet. The right kind of quiet.

Now? Now he barely remembered the last night he’d actually fallen asleep next to you. Really slept. Not just crashed on the bed after some back-to-back PR gig that left him in a suit with aching teeth from smiling too much.

He hated it.

He hated talking to the press, hated the way they asked questions like they already had the answers written. He hated being told to laugh, to charm, to tell stories that didn’t feel like his anymore. He hated Val’s smug reminders that likability mattered. That perception mattered.

Sometimes, he wished he’d never gone to Congress. That he hadn’t let convinced himself into the platform, the speeches, the idea that he could do good with a microphone instead of a mission.

Sometimes, he wished he’d just… faded.

Found a quiet nine-to-five. Something with a routine. Something boring.

Something normal.

Like you had.

You worked corporate communications. You clocked in and out. You had a clean desk, ergonomic chair, sarcastic co-workers. You went for runs in the park on weekends, had lunch dates with your girlfriends, took yoga classes when you weren’t too exhausted from the week.

You lived in the world like a real person.

And he’d wanted that so badly. Not for himself—but with you.

Because you were his normal. His constant. The stillness that didn’t suffocate. The grounding he’d clung to after years of floating through someone else’s chaos.

But now?

Now he didn’t know how to reach for it without dragging it into the spotlight with him.

And every time he came home and found you already asleep, back to him, or out with friends instead of waiting, or just… quiet in a way that wasn’t yours anymore—

He felt it.

The drift.

And he hated it.

────────────────────────

You didn’t talk about it.

You didn’t let yourself think about it.

The distance. His absence. The too-quiet apartment, the untouched half of the bed, the silence when your phone didn’t buzz all day. It wasn’t worth thinking about. People were dying in the world—actual, breathing, bleeding people—and you were going to be pathetic about your boyfriend missing dinner?

No.

Absolutely the fuck not.

So you cleaned. You ran. You worked. You answered emails with snide internal commentary and booked your usual yoga class for Tuesday even though you hated the new instructor’s voice. You refused to call it coping.

It was just living.

And tonight? Tonight was fine.

It was Saturday. He’d said he’d be back for dinner.

You didn’t text to confirm because you didn’t want to hover. Didn’t want to be needy. He’d said it, he’d meant it, and you would trust that. Like always.

So, you cooked.

Beef stew—slow and thick and comforting. Heavenly mashed potatoes, made with way more butter than you’d ever admit to aloud. Roasted vegetables, because Bucky needed something green on his plate or he’d sulk. It was all simmering gently on the stove while you lay curled on the couch in your oldest pair of yoga shorts and a hoodie, eating straight from a pint of mint chocolate chip.

It was fine.

Okay, it was your cheat day.

Okay, you’d had more cheat days than planned recently.

You’d also bought a new pair of jeans in the next size up, but that was irrelevant. You were not stress-eating. You were just... adapting to your changing lifestyle.

Had Bucky noticed?

The thought came and went before you could kill it.

He hadn’t said anything. Not that you needed him to. But still.

The sound of the TV murmured in the background, some fluff piece news channel you’d forgotten to mute while scrolling your phone. Something about the New Avengers. You tuned in just enough to glance at the footage—drone shots of a crumbling government facility somewhere in Eastern Europe, flames curling up the side of a building like hands.

You recognized the team instantly. Yelena, tossing her baton mid-air like it annoyed her to carry it. Ava disappearing through smoke. John looking way too pleased with himself.

And then—there he was.

Bucky.

His tactical suit was soot-streaked, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, face streaked with ash. He was helping someone—no, two people—down the fire escape, guiding them through smoke with one hand steady on their backs.

Then it happened.

One of the women—civilian, blonde, maybe late 20s—turned and kissed him on the cheek. A hard, grateful kind of kiss. The kind that left a smudge of ash on his jaw.

She clung to him like he’d saved her life.

Maybe he had.

And Bucky? He smiled.

Not his press smile. Not the tight, practiced one. But something else—softer. Real.

You blinked.

Let out a breath through your nose. “Jesus Christ.”

It wasn’t like he kissed her. It wasn’t like he meant anything by it. She’d probably thought she was about to die, and then Bucky Barnes dragged her out of a collapsing building, and she just… reacted.

You weren’t jealous.

You were just being dramatic.

This was not about you.

But somehow, that one moment served to curdle the rest of the evening.

You changed the channel without saying anything, the ice cream melting slowly in your hands. The scent of stew floated in from the kitchen, warm and rich, but you didn’t move.

Dinner would keep.

You weren't sure if he would.

────────────────────────

It was past ten by the time Bucky stepped into the apartment.

The hallway had been dark. The front door had creaked louder than usual. And the only light inside was the kitchen, glowing soft and golden like a memory. It lit the space just enough to reveal the forgotten dinner plates covered in cling film on the counter, the quiet hum of the microwave keeping your meal warm—like it was still waiting.

But you weren’t.

His breath caught in his throat as he toed off his boots, silence wrapping around him like a punishment.

He said six.

Not “around six,” not “if I can swing it.” Just six. Sharp. He said it with his hands on your waist and his lips in your hair the night before. Said it like he meant it.

And now it was 10:18.

He could barely look at the time. The guilt clawed at him, sharp and low and constant. Every second he’d spent at the tower—every extra minute talking to reporters, doing damage control, smiling on cue—had eaten at him like acid.

He was supposed to be here.

In your shared space. In this soft, too-warm apartment that smelled faintly like roasted vegetables and your perfume.

And the worst part wasn’t just that he’d missed dinner. It was that he knew exactly what you’d done in his absence.

You wouldn’t have texted. Wouldn’t have called. You would’ve made his favorite meal anyway. You would’ve set out two bowls. You would’ve eaten alone, probably on the couch, probably in silence. And you would’ve told yourself—it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine—like you had any interest in believing it anymore.

The bathroom door clicked open.

He froze.

You stepped out, already dressed for bed—an oversized button-down, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. Your hair was twisted up and pinned in the messy, practical way you always wore it when you were done for the day. Slippers scuffed softly against the floor as you walked into the hall, blinking slightly at the light.

You stopped when you saw him.

Both of you just stood there for a moment—frozen in that strange tension where neither of you knew which role to play yet. He looked at you like he didn’t know if he was allowed to speak.

Then he remembered how to breathe.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said quietly, voice rougher than he meant. Like he’d been holding it in all night. “I—I got caught up. I didn’t mean to—”

You didn’t answer right away.

Just blinked at him. No surprise on your face. No anger.

Just quiet.

Then you gave a little shrug—small and tired, the kind of shrug that said what else is new?—and turned toward the kitchen.

“There’s food in the microwave if you’re still hungry,” you said simply.

And then you walked past him.

No kiss. No touch. No sarcastic jab.

Just your scent, and the ache of knowing that he wasn’t even sure if he was following you to the bedroom or to the guest room tonight.

The door clicked softly behind you.

And Bucky stood alone in the glow of a kitchen he didn’t deserve.

────────────────────────

It was almost midnight when Bucky finally walked into the bedroom.

Not because he was tired. He’d been tired for hours.

He just needed to be sure you were asleep.

The microwave had long since gone silent. He’d eaten half the stew in distracted mouthfuls, barely tasting it, then spent an hour sitting in the living room in the dark, elbows on his knees, forehead resting on steepled hands. The guilt gnawed at him—not loud or dramatic, just steady, like water dripping against stone. It never stopped.

He pushed open the door slowly, as if afraid it would creak too loud. The room smelled like your shampoo, your skin, your cocoa body butter. His sanctuary. The place he used to walk into and feel immediate calm.

Now it just reminded him of everything he was missing, even while it was still right in front of him.

You were already in bed.

Covers pulled halfway up. Lights dimmed. Hair pinned back in the soft way you wore it only at night. You slept with your back to the door—back to him—and it made something inside him pinch.

He hesitated in the doorway, watching the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the way your fingers curled under your pillow. Still. Quiet. Entirely out of reach.

He stripped silently, down to boxers and a threadbare black t-shirt, and slid beneath the sheets with a care that bordered on reverent.

Then—inch by inch—he moved closer.

It was tentative. Like approaching a deer in the woods. Like if he moved too fast, you might flinch and disappear.

His arm slid around your waist. Cautious. Testing.

You didn’t move.

So he let his chest press against your back, warm and slow. Let his knees curve behind yours, let his other hand reach up and tuck gently under your ribcage, pulling you flush.

Then—finally—he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Breathed you in like he hadn’t seen home in weeks.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Still, you didn’t stir. No tensing. No pulling away.

Just the soft, subconscious hum of sleep.

And that—that tiny, unconscious mercy—was enough to let him exhale for the first time all night.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

And he held on to it like it might save him.

────────────────────────

The apartment smelled like detergent and coffee. Morning light streamed in through the windows, dust catching in the gold. On the surface, it looked like a Sunday—peaceful, slow, quiet.

But it wasn’t.

You sat on the couch, folding laundry with the precision of someone who needed something—anything—to occupy your hands. T-shirt, fold. Socks, fold. Hoodie, fold. The pile on the coffee table grew in neat little stacks, organized by drawer and category.

Bucky leaned in the doorway, watching you. Barefoot, hair tied up, one of his sweatshirts hanging loose around your shoulders. It should’ve been comforting. Familiar.

It wasn’t.

He moved to the kitchen, filled two mugs with coffee, brought yours over without a word. Set it down next to your knee. You gave a nod, murmured “thanks,” without looking up.

His stomach twisted.

He sat across from you, mug cradled in both hands, trying not to overthink it. Trying to act normal. Pretend that everything didn’t feel like it was three steps left of what it used to be.

“So,” he said, voice easy, like he was just easing into the day with you. “You still going to that yoga class on Tuesdays?”

You didn’t look at him. Just kept folding a pair of socks, thumbs pressing the fabric into place. “Yeah.”

He waited for more.

Nothing.

“You like it?”

You shrugged, moved onto a fitted sheet. “It’s fine.”

Bucky nodded slowly, feeling the distance like a cold draft under a closed door.

That was how you talked to people you didn’t want to get stuck in a conversation with. To strangers. To coworkers who overshared. To the people you were polite to but had no desire to know.

He remembered how your voice used to sound when it was just the two of you—low, dry, threaded with sarcasm and occasional sweetness you tried hard to hide. He remembered the way your eyes used to flick up mid-conversation just to check that he was still smiling. He remembered you saying, “I hate everyone but you,” with a hand on his chest and a smirk you couldn't keep down.

Now?

Now you sounded like someone tolerating him.

And it broke something inside his chest that he didn’t know how to fix.

He took a sip of his coffee, staring into the steam, words catching behind his teeth.

You weren’t angry.

You weren’t cruel.

You were just... gone.

And it was killing him.

The silence had stretched too long. Not peaceful. Not content. Just tense.

Bucky watched you fold a hoodie and set it aside like it mattered. Like it was worth more attention than him. He had tried—coffee, questions, anything to coax out that sliver of warmth you used to give him without thinking.

Now it was measured. Distant. Like he was on the other side of something neither of you had noticed building until it was too high to climb over.

He stared into his coffee like it might offer an answer. It didn’t.

So finally—quietly, but not gently—he asked, “Are we okay?”

You froze mid-fold.

Your hands stilled, holding one of his long-sleeve shirts in your lap, fingers curled around the soft fabric.

And then, for the first time that morning, you looked at him.

Not a glance. Not a nod. You looked at him.

There was a frown on your lips. A deep furrow between your brows. The kind of look you gave when something was broken and you weren’t sure whether to fix it or walk away from it.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

The words hit harder than he was ready for.

You didn’t know.

And that terrified him.

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to process it, but nothing quite stuck. His hands tightened around the mug in his grip.

You looked down again, slowly folding the shirt in your lap. Your voice dropped, softer now. Barely above the hum of the fridge.

“I try not to think about it.”

Bucky’s throat tightened.

You weren’t trying to hurt him. But it hurt anyway.

Because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? Neither of you had talked about it. You’d just lived in the quiet space between exhaustion and effort, pretending the love was enough to keep everything from shifting.

You still loved him. He knew that.

But love wasn't fixing it. Not when you felt like strangers in the same home.

“I miss you,” he said, voice rough. “Even when I’m right here. I miss you.”

You didn’t look up.

Didn’t answer.

Just smoothed your fingers across the folded shirt like maybe if you kept them busy, the truth wouldn’t get too loud.

He wanted to reach across the coffee table, wanted to take your hands, wanted to say something to undo it all.

But neither of you were good at this part.

You were good at sarcasm. At quiet nights. At sex in the kitchen and lazy Sundays with pancakes and him pretending not to burn the bacon.

You weren’t good at asking for what you needed.

And right now, neither of you knew how to say what came next.

So the silence stretched again—thicker now, heavier.

The laundry was folded.

That’s what you clung to, bizarrely, like it meant something. Order. Control. You stacked the last shirt on the table and smoothed your palms down your thighs, blinking at nothing in particular.

You hadn’t spoken since I miss you.

Not because you didn’t want to.

Because you didn’t trust what might come out if you did.

Across from you, Bucky hadn’t moved much either. Just sat with the cooling coffee in his hands, elbows on his knees, staring at the place you used to lean into him without hesitation.

The silence thickened until it felt like breathing through gauze.

You stood up, grabbed your coffee, and walked into the kitchen. You weren’t thirsty. You just needed something to do.

Behind you, Bucky’s voice broke the quiet.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he said.

Your back tensed. The mug clinked slightly against the counter.

“I didn’t want this either,” you said, not turning around.

“You used to talk to me,” he murmured. “Even when you were annoyed. Even when you were tired. You still talked.”

You closed your eyes.

“It’s hard to talk,” you said, voice flat, “when you’re not around to listen.”

The armchair scraped back against the floor. Footsteps. Closer.

“I am listening,” he said, more desperate now. “I know I’ve been— I’ve been stretched. But I’m here now. Just talk to me.”

You turned around slowly, coffee mug still in your hand. You looked at him, really looked. And something inside you cracked—not because you didn’t love him.

Because you did.

That was the problem.

“I don’t want to be another thing you manage, Bucky.”

He froze.

You shook your head slowly. “You manage the media. You manage the team. You manage your image. I don’t want to be another box you tick at the end of the day.”

“I don’t think of you like that—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly. “That’s what makes it worse.”

He stared at you, helpless.

“I don’t doubt you love me,” you continued. “But I can’t keep living in the spaces between your obligations. You show up late, you leave early. You touch me like you’re scared I’ll vanish. And maybe I will, because I don’t know how much more of this I can take without losing myself.”

Your voice didn’t shake.

Your hands didn’t clench.

You weren’t yelling.

But you might as well have torn your heart out and set it on the counter between you.

Bucky swallowed hard. “So what? You’re done?”

You looked at him, and for the first time, there was no sarcasm. No tight-lipped smile. Just a hollow kind of truth.

“I’m tired,” you said. “And I don’t know how to not be tired anymore.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Your voice dropped lower. “I can’t be the only one holding the thread, babe.”

The silence returned. Bigger now.

You stepped around him, walked to the bedroom, and closed the door behind you—not slammed. Just shut.

Soft. But final.

While Bucky stood in the kitchen, frozen.

The coffee in his mug had gone cold.

The apartment felt foreign, like he’d wandered into someone else’s life and forgotten how to get back to his own.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, hands in his hair.

He couldn’t lose this. He wouldn’t.

You were it. His peace. His pulse. The only thing in his life that ever made him feel real.

He didn’t care what Val said, or what public image they wanted to build, or how many staged smiles he had to fake for camera crews.

If it meant losing you?

Then it wasn’t worth anything.

And he would fix it.

He didn’t know how yet.

But he would.

Because if this ended, if you walked away and didn’t look back—

He’d be nothing but a name in a file again.

And he’d already spent too much of his life feeling like a ghost.

────────────────────────

Bucky had never cared for formal events, especially not since becoming the public face of a team that didn't particularly want one. But tonight wasn’t about optics. It wasn’t about strategy or good PR.

It was about you.

The invitation had landed on Val’s desk a week ago—a high-profile charity gala for Clean Futures, an international organization funding mental health programs for post-Blip survivors. Your company had a long-standing partnership with the group, which meant you’d be there. Representing. Smiling for photos. Dressed to kill.

And you hadn’t told him.

You didn’t need to. He hadn’t earned that kind of openness in weeks.

So Bucky had taken the opportunity and run with it.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror in the Watchtower’s prep room, tugging at the lapels of the black suit that Mel had somehow sourced last-minute. The cut was sharp, classic, tailored to emphasize broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was slicked back, jaw clean-shaven, cufflinks engraved with the new Avengers insignia.

It felt like armor.

It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for the team.

It was for you.

Because maybe if he showed up—not as a soldier or a symbol or a ghost of a man who couldn’t keep promises—but as your man, he might finally break the wall you’d built brick by slow, exhausted brick.

"You look like a magazine ad for heartbreak,” Yelena said flatly as she passed him in the hallway, already halfway into a glittering black gown. “That is not a compliment.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. “You know she’s gonna be there?”

“Do I look like her personal assistant?” she replied. “You’re the one who made Val jump through hoops to drag us into this.”

“It's for a good cause,” he said.

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. Purely selfless.”

Ava walked by next, heels clicking. “You’re nervous,” she noted, glancing at him sideways.

“I’m not—”

“You’re sweating through a thousand dollars worth of tailoring. That’s nerves.”

He rolled his eyes.

Alexei, coming down the stairs in a tux that looked like it belonged to a different century, clapped him on the back. “You want advice? Make her laugh. Women like a man who makes them laugh.”

“Or,” Bob said quietly, trailing behind them with his bowtie untied and suit wrinkled, “you could just apologize. That works too.”

Bucky ignored them all as he fastened his bowtie and adjusted the cuffs one last time.

He didn’t know if you’d speak to him.

But he’d be damned if he stood across a ballroom from you and didn’t try.

────────────────────────

The camera flashes started the moment the New Avengers stepped out of the sleek black convoy outside the grand hotel.

Reporters lined the ropes, shouting names and questions, bulbs flashing like strobe lights in a storm. Val stood smug just off to the side, soaking it in like she’d orchestrated the whole damn thing.

Inside, the ballroom was already humming with rich voices, tinkling glassware, soft jazz echoing beneath a grand chandelier. Politicians, CEOs, heads of NGOs, tech royalty—all of them looking to shake hands and write checks.

Yelena rolled her eyes as a photographer barked her name, whispering something to Bob, who stayed glued to her side. Ava immediately veered away from the attention. John lapped up the press like a plant under a grow light. Alexei was already loudly asking where the vodka was.

But Bucky wasn’t looking at the cameras.

He wasn’t smiling.

He was scanning the ballroom, eyes darting over sequined gowns and tuxedoed silhouettes with laser focus. Looking. Searching. Waiting.

And then he saw you.

It hit him like a sucker punch.

You descended the marble staircase on the far side of the ballroom, a vision in crimson. He hadn’t seen the dress before—he would’ve remembered. The deep red clung to your body like it knew exactly where you wanted to be touched.

It shimmered subtly under the chandelier light, catching the gold in your skin, the delicate slope of your collarbone, the shape of your legs moving with slow, elegant precision.

You were talking to someone—corporate, probably. Networking. Smooth and composed, all polished charm and business poise. The person in front of you was smiling wide, laughing, but your expression was mild, professional. Exactly what it needed to be.

But then—

Like you felt him.

You turned.

Your eyes swept the crowd and locked on him like gravity itself had bent the light to make it happen.

Bucky froze.

Time narrowed.

The din of the gala dulled. His heartbeat went hot in his ears. All he could see was you—standing there in that goddamn dress, looking like a memory he hadn’t earned and a future he didn’t deserve.

And for a second, just one second, your expression broke.

Just a little.

Recognition. Surprise. And something else—something softer. Sharper.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

You turned back to your conversation, spine straightening, mouth curving into that polite smile you wore when you wanted to end something without causing a scene.

Bucky stood rooted in place, jaw clenched, hands curled at his sides.

Right.

He’d told you not to be seen near them. Told you to stay away, for safety. For PR. For a million reasons that didn’t mean a damn thing anymore.

And now?

He couldn’t just walk up to you. Couldn’t confess his love in front of the board members and donors and paparazzi. He knew you. Knew you’d hate it. Knew it would make you glare instead of melt.

So he’d have to find another way.

One that would mean something.

One that would be yours.

And Bucky Barnes had never been more ready to fight for something in his goddamn life.

────────────────────────

Bucky spent most of the night like a man caught in the wrong timeline.

The team had dispersed—mingling, sipping wine, taking photos they didn’t want to take. Yelena charmed a table of older donors by being blunt and hilarious.

Ava was already in a corner having a serious conversation about resource allocation. Bob, somehow, had gotten pulled into a group selfie with a senator. Even John had managed to slap on a half-decent smile and talk to two reporters without saying anything arrogant.

But Bucky?

Bucky stood there.

Dark suit, jaw clenched, drink untouched in his hand.

Watching you.

You moved through the room like you weren’t breaking his heart a little with every step. Laughing politely at something someone said. Holding your glass just so. The fabric of that crimson dress whispering around your ankles as you walked.

Every now and then, your eyes flicked to his. Brief. Electric. Then gone again.

He didn’t know what to do with himself.

And then—heels clicking, voice like an ice pick—Val appeared beside him.

“You’re up.”

Bucky blinked. “Up for what?”

Val gave a thin, dry smile. “Speech. On behalf of the New Avengers. Seeing as the rest of your team has at least attempted to behave like functioning public figures, and you’ve done nothing but stand here looking like an emotionally repressed Greek statue all night.”

He blinked again. “I wasn’t told—”

“You are now,” she interrupted, already turning away. “It’s already been cleared with the host. Mic’s ready. Try not to say anything too traumatic.”

And with that, she pivoted away, already bored of him.

Public speaking. God help him.

But then his eyes found you again.

Still glowing under the chandeliers. Still you.

And he thought, maybe this is it.

He walked onto the stage to the quiet hum of low conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses. The host introduced him with a few polite words—"Representative of the New Avengers, veteran of WW2..."—and then stepped aside, leaving Bucky with the mic and a ballroom full of people who had no idea what he was about to say.

He gripped the podium tighter than he meant to.

Cleared his throat.

You were near the center, now seated at a table with your company’s execs. And your eyes were already on him.

God.

He hadn’t even started yet, and he was wrecked.

He cleared his throat. “Good evening.”

A few polite nods from the audience.

“I’m not… great at speeches,” he started, eyes sweeping the crowd once—but only once—before settling back on you.

“But I’m honored to speak tonight. Because this cause… matters. Mental health support for Blip survivors—that’s not just a talking point. It’s life-saving.”

People leaned in.

“I’ve seen firsthand what coming back can do to someone,” he said slowly, carefully. “What it feels like to be displaced. Lost. Like time’s moved on without you, and you’re just… dragging behind it, trying to catch up. And the worst part of that isn’t the confusion. It’s the loneliness.”

His voice was low, careful. This part, at least, he could manage.

“I think we talk a lot about the logistics of the Blip—people gone, people returned, the chaos. But we don’t talk enough about what it did to the people who stayed. Or the ones who came back and didn’t recognize the world anymore. People who survived, but didn’t feel alive.”

You shifted slightly in your seat. His eyes never left you.

“And I’m saying this not just as an Avenger or a veteran… but as someone who’s been there. Someone who came back from the dead—twice. And there were days I didn’t know how to keep going. I’ve spent years working on being more than what happened to me. I’ve sat in rooms trying to explain why it still hurts. Trying to find meaning.”

A pause.

“And I wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t had someone to come home to.”

That’s when the shift happened.

Eyes widened. A few murmurs from the crowd. Even Val froze near the back.

“I’m not… great with this kind of thing,” Bucky said, adjusting the mic slightly. “But I’m standing here in front of all of you, not because I’m part of a superhero team, or because someone handed me a title. I’m standing here because there is a woman in this room who keeps me tethered.”

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t glance away from you, not even once.

“She’s my rock. My clarity. The only person who ever looked at me and saw something worth saving. She didn’t ask me to be a hero. She just asked me to be me. And somehow… she still loved what she saw.”

A breath.

“She is the reason I believe I deserve peace.”

Your eyes were locked on him, wide, unmoving.

Some of the audience was blinking. A few whispering.

But Bucky didn’t care.

Because he wasn’t talking to them.

He was talking to you.

“I was a soldier. Then a weapon. Then a politician. Now I’m trying to be a man. And I can’t be that without her.”

He swallowed, but didn’t falter.

And for the first time in weeks, his voice felt steady. Because for once, he wasn’t hiding. Not his love. Not his pain. Not what you meant to him.

He took a breath.

Then finished, simply:

“So thank you for supporting this cause. It’s not abstract. It’s personal. For all of us.”

A pause.

Then the room erupted in applause.

But Bucky didn’t hear it.

He was still looking at you.

And for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the distance.

────────────────────────

The applause was still echoing faintly through the ballroom, conversations blooming again like nothing had shifted—but Bucky knew better.

Something had shifted.

He stepped off the stage and straight into the tide of well-dressed bodies. Donors, board members, media people—shaking hands, smiling, complimenting him, dropping half-formed praises about “moving” and “authentic” and “genuine vulnerability.”

But he didn’t care.

He barely registered any of it.

His eyes were scanning the room. Looking for you. Like if he could just find you, ground himself in your orbit, maybe he could believe that what he’d just done was enough.

But you weren’t by the bar. You weren’t at the staircase. You weren’t by the back exit or near the dance floor or—

Then he felt it.

A hand—your hand—sliding around his arm, fingers warm against the fabric of his sleeve.

He turned, heart already beating faster.

You didn’t say anything.

Just gave him a look.

And gently, almost imperceptibly, tugged him away from the crowd.

Bucky followed without thinking, letting you lead him through a discreet side corridor, past a curtained alcove where the sounds of the gala dulled to a hum.

And when you stopped, when you turned to face him, he opened his mouth—

But he didn’t get a word out.

Because your hands were on his face, firm and sure, pulling him down into a kiss that knocked the breath from his chest.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t cautious.

It was needy. Real. Like you’d been starving for weeks and finally allowed to taste again. Like he was something you couldn’t help but want.

He melted into you with a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh, wasn’t quite a groan—just relief. One hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair like he couldn’t believe this was real.

When you finally pulled back, breath warm against his lips, you didn’t let go.

Didn’t step away.

You just leaned your forehead to his and whispered, voice tinged with a half-smile—

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

He huffed out something like a laugh. “Worth it.”

Your fingers lingered against his jaw.

The soft glow from the hallway barely reached the small alcove where you stood, still tucked away behind velvet drapes and polished columns. The noise of the gala felt far-off now—like another world neither of you belonged to.

Bucky wouldn't let go of you. His hands still rested on your waist like he didn’t trust the moment to last. Like if he blinked, you might fade again.

You leaned your shoulder into the wall, breathing finally steady. He looked at you—really looked at you—and reached for your hand.

“I’m gonna try,” he said, voice low, steady in the dark. “I know I’ve said it before, but this time… I mean it. I’m gonna try, really try. I don’t care how many speeches they want. I don’t care what the media says or what Val plans next. You’re it. You’re my whole damn life.”

Your lips parted, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he said. “And I know that’s not always enough to make it easy. But I want you to know that if you asked me—if you looked me in the eye right now and said to walk away from the Avengers, from all of it—”

His hand cupped the back of your neck.

“I would.”

Your heart twisted, eyes burning in that way they always did when he got too sincere.

You reached up and cupped his cheek, fingers brushing along his clean-shaven cheek, thumb skimming the line of his jaw.

“I know,” you whispered. “But you know I’d never ask that.”

He leaned into your hand, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “Doesn’t change the fact that I would. You come first. You always do.”

You smiled, so gently he almost missed it.

“I don’t need you to walk away,” you murmured. “I just need you to walk back. To us. To me.”

He nodded. “I will.”

You kissed him again—slower this time. Like a promise. Like you were giving him something he already owned but forgot how to hold.

And when you pulled away, his mouth curved, that old smirk creeping back into place as his hands slid subtly down your back.

“You know,” he said, voice dipping, “this is a pretty dark corner. Not a lot of foot traffic.”

You snorted. “James.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, leaning in, “no one would see.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Keep it in your pants, Barnes.”

“What about when we get home?”

You kissed his jaw and murmured against his skin— “When we get home, Sergeant.”

His grin bloomed—lazy, boyish, free—and before you could say anything else, he kissed you again.

Longer. Slower. Sweeter.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

5K notes · View notes

societyfolklore · 2 months ago

Text

We Couldn’t Stop

Title: We Couldn’t Stop Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until it’s too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- you’re forced to ride out the drug’s effects together.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Sex Pollen / Drugged Lust, Threesome MFM, Dubious Consent (due to drug influence), Double Penetration, Oral (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex/Overstimulationm Fingering, anal ply, cum play, Competitive Doms

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for April Kinky Bingo Square: A3- Threesome Card Number: KB003

The mission was supposed to be a simple sweep- an old HYDRA lab buried deep beneath the forest floor, long abandoned, just a routine retrieval run for leftover tech and encrypted files that could pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. You, Steve, and Bucky had done that sort of thing more times than you could count. Clear the rooms, grab the drives, secure any volatile tech, and call for extraction. In and out. Easy.

You should’ve known better the moment you stepped inside. The facility was too quiet, too intact. Dust settled thick on the floors, but the lights still flickered dimly overhead, and the security systems were half-alive, humming low like they were waiting.

You were the one who found the sealed door- reinforced, heavily protected, and drawing power. It was locked down tight, tucked at the end of a corridor where the flickering lights didn’t quite reach. You called the others over.

"You think it’s storage?" Bucky asked, frowning at the biometric pad.

"Locked and powered," you muttered. "Could be data. Or maybe just a lab they forgot to scrub."

"Let's not poke the bear," Steve said, but he stepped up beside you anyway, scanning the door. "Looks like it's sealed for a reason."

That should've been the moment you backed off. But your fingers were already dancing over the keypad, overriding the old security system. The panel blinked. Clicked.

"I’ve almost got- "

The door hissed. Not wide- barely a few inches.

A soft spray hit you all in the face.

It came fast. Silent. A puff of pressurized mist like compressed air, followed by the faintest scent- ozone, chemical sweetness, almost floral.

You stumbled back, coughing once.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky barked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the door. "You okay? Did you breathe it in?"

"Yeah, but- I don’t feel anything."

"We’re all covered in it," Bucky snapped, glaring at the faint sheen settling over Steve’s shoulders. "Fucking hell."

"Close it," Steve ordered.

Bucky slammed the door shut, sealing it again with a growl. "Old security measure. Shit."

"We’ll report it," Steve said, but his jaw was clenched.

The spray clung to your skin. Sweet. Heavy. And whatever it was, it was in all three of you now.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

By the time the jet touched down back at the compound, you were already flushed and aching, your heart thudding too fast in your chest. Whatever had come out of that door- it clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made everything inside you feel off. You weren’t the only one affected. Bucky was pacing the perimeter of the quinjet like a caged animal. Steve hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes, but his white-knuckled grip on the back of a seat said everything.

You’d hoped the decontamination shower would be the end of it. But blood was still taken. Swabs run over your skin. Scans. More questions. Until finally, they left the three of you in the quarantine room- one sterile space, no outside contact, and cameras in every corner.

You wanted to apologize. This had been your mistake. But Bucky’s expression was pure storm as he continued to pace like a tiger in a zoo. Steve’s face was unreadable- steely, distant, controlled. So you kept your mouth shut and tried not to scratch at your skin like you desperately wanted.

Soft static crackled, and then Tony’s voice filled the room over the speaker. "It’s biochemical bonding serum," he said. "Looks like it's engineered to push subjects into a state of hyperarousal and submission, designed to override inhibition and drive instinctual behaviors."

Your stomach dropped. What kind of mess had you landed yourself in?

"How long?" Bucky snapped, voice sharp.

"We'll have to check back on the decay and metabolic rate, and we- "

"What Bruce means is- we don't know," Tony cut in. "For you guys, it might be a matter of hours. Little Miss Curiosity might be stuck with it in her system a little longer."

You flinched and shied away from the speaker, burying your face in your hands.

"We're working on it, don't stress. It shouldn't kill you," Tony added casually.

"Big fucking whoop," Bucky growled, pressing a fist into the wall. Steve shot him a look of disproval.

"Buck.." His tone warning.

"Just, try and stay calm, guys," Bruce said, trying to sound optimistic. "It'll be alright."

"Don’t make a mess," Tony said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We’ll keep you posted."

And just like that, you were cut off again. Biochemical- engineered arousal.

"Well, you heard him," Steve sighed, leaning back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We just have to keep our heads. It can’t last forever."

That was easy for him to say. Both Steve and Bucky had super soldier serum in their veins- enhanced bodies that could regulate, adapt, maybe even resist. You… you were human. And you could already feel your body reacting in ways that made your skin itch and your blood feel like it was boiling.

You didn't say anything. Just shifted your weight, trying not to squirm. The heat beneath your skin pulsed steadily now, like it was alive.

"This is fucked," Bucky muttered, pacing again. "They just dumped us in here like we’re some kind of experiment."

"They’re doing what they can," Steve said, tone calm but tight. "We don’t know enough yet. Getting worked up won’t help."

"Worked up?" Bucky turned on him, eyes flashing. "You don’t feel that?"

Steve’s jaw flexed. "Of course I feel it."

"Then quit acting like you don’t."

You glanced between them, heart racing. The tension in the room was building again, only this time it wasn’t from anger- it was something heavier. Thicker. Clinging to the air like smoke.

And under it all, that hum beneath your skin only grew louder.

Hours had passed.

You'd started pacing a little while ago, unable to sit still. Movement helped. Not much- but it was something. You were going through the water they'd left in the room like you were dying of thirst. You were hot, sticky, your tank damp and clinging to your body, and you were doing everything you could to ignore the throbbing pulse between your legs.

You kept moving. Pacing. Trying to shake it off.

Steve watched from the far cot, jaw tight. His shirt was damp, his breath shallow, but he was sitting like he was trying to pretend everything was normal.

Bucky was pacing again, eyes locked on you more often than not, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. “She smells different,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rough, raw sound of his voice made your head twitch like it was a physical thing pulling at you.

"Gonna try and sleep," you muttered, not looking at either of them.

Maybe you'd be able to sleep through the worst of it. Maybe if you were lucky, your body would calm down. You slipped behind the thin curtain, stepping into the tiny corner of privacy around your cot. Laying down, the heat of your body only seemed to intensify. Your skin felt suffocated, and with a frustrated sigh, you peeled your tank top over your head, leaving you in just your bra, hoping the exposure would help you breathe easier.

It didn’t.

You curled onto your side, arms around your stomach, thighs pressed tight together. The ache between your legs was a constant, heavy throb now. Maybe… maybe you could just handle your own needs. Just enough to take the edge off. Anything to ease the ache.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the thin blanket around you and lay on the cot. There was a small curtain for privacy, but it did nothing to muffle the sounds when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

You tried to be quiet. Tried to hold your breath. But your body was on fire, and even the gentlest brush of your fingers sent you bucking.

A whimper escaped, broken and desperate.

And then you heard it- Steve’s voice. Low. Strained.

“Don’t- don’t do that.”

You froze. “I- I can’t- ”

Still, you didn’t stop. You rubbed faster, then slower, your fingers diving inside of you, pressing deeper, trying every angle- but nothing worked. Every shift of your hand sent sparks across your nerves, your breath hitching with each pulse of pressure, but the fire wouldn’t break. Your legs trembled, your toes curled, but it all stayed out of reach.

You changed angles, tried circling your clit with trembling fingers while your other hand held onto the edge of the cot like it could ground you. You rocked your hips up, whispered pleas into the dark, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed more- needed them- but all you had were your own shaking hands and the unbearable ache growing between your legs.

Your breath hitched again as frustration bloomed hot and frantic in your chest. You were soaking, your thighs slick, the air sticky with the scent of your arousal. Your skin was flushed and clammy, your body locked in this endless loop of need- and yet you still couldn’t fall over that edge. Not like this. Not alone.

"You gonna keep pretending you don’t want her?" Bucky asked, voice low and rough, growling on the other side of the curtain.

Steve didn’t move at first, but his voice followed, strained. "I can smell her arousal from here, Buck. You think I’m not affected?"

"She’s whimpering, Steve. Sounds like music to me."

"We’re not doing this. We can’t- "

"Fuck this. She needs someone."

"Don’t you fucking touch her," Steve snapped.

"Then you do something," Bucky fired back.

Silence followed. You pressed your fingers deeper, hips rocking, but it wasn’t working. You were going to explode- your body was wound so tight it hurt.

Your fingers weren’t enough. You begged, voice cracking, desperate and broken.

"Please... please someone- "

Someone pulled the curtain back. Bucky’s eyes were dark. Blown wide. He didn’t speak. It hurt. “I can’t…” you whimpered, barely able to speak. “It’s not working…”

Your hips shifted again instinctively, your fingers still caught between your thighs, but the tension was unbearable. You were so wet, so swollen with need, it was maddening- and yet release stayed just out of reach. Your body craved more than your own touch could give.

They both appeared, stepping past the curtain without a word. You could see it in their faces- this was affecting them just as much. Steve’s eyes were dark, jaw clenched. Bucky looked wrecked, barely human with how sharp and hungry his expression had become.

You writhed again on the cot, body shaking, and Steve moved first- his weight shifting over you as he pressed your shoulders down into the mattress with steady, unyielding hands.

"Stay still," he said, voice gravel-thick.

At the same time, Bucky grabbed your wrist and gently pulled your hand away from you.

You whined, hips arched up, as Bucky’s gaze dropped to your slick fingers. He looked transfixed. Obsessed. His mouth parted before he dragged his tongue along your digits, groaning low in his chest at the taste.

Then- without breaking eye contact- he brought your hand to Steve.

"Tell me again we shouldn’t do this," Bucky said, voice rough and knowing.

Steve hesitated, staring at your hand, your eyes, then your body.

"...Steve?" you pleaded, chest heaving. A bead of sweat slid down your ribs, slicking your skin as the heat inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Help... please."

Steve’s jaw flexed. His eyes raked over your flushed, trembling body, lingering where your bra had ridden up from the way you were squirming, the curve of your thighs glistening in the low light.

Bucky didn’t speak. He just stood there beside him, wild-eyed and rigid, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. The scent of you filled the air. Thick. Sweet. Desperate.

Steve exhaled through his nose, heavy and slow like he was trying to exhale restraint. It didn’t work.

"You’re going to regret begging so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, finally moving closer, the promise behind his words like thunder rolling through your veins.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

They were both on you.

You didn’t know who moved first- Steve’s hand slid up your thigh, firm and sure, while Bucky’s mouth was suddenly at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The tension shattered. Clothing came off in frantic tugs- your joggers peeled away, your bra unclasped and discarded. Steve’s tank was tossed aside. Bucky’s sweats hit the floor with a low rustle.

Heat and skin and breath surrounded you. Their bodies pressed in, solid and hot and overwhelming. Steve's chest pinned you down as he kissed you- hard and consuming- his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned into your mouth. His hands cupped your jaw, fingers splayed, tilting your head how he wanted it.

Bucky moved lower, lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping along your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down the cot toward him with a roughness that made you moan. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your inner thighs, worshipping each inch like it belonged to him.

You gasped, arching into the touch of both of them. Their mouths- wet and demanding. Their bodies- slick with sweat, grinding against you like they couldn't get close enough.

You'd all held out for so long. Now there was nothing but the letting go.

Every nerve ending in your body sparked like live wires with every touch- every graze of skin against skin sent jolts of unbearable sensation through you. It was impossible to stay still. Your limbs twitched, your hips rocked, your breath came in short, gasping pulls as your body tried to process too much, too fast.

“Don’t move,” Steve growled, voice rough but laced with something gentler beneath. “Too sensitive? No. You’re just not used to being handled right.”

Bucky pushed your legs open wider, guiding your knees apart until your calves hung off the edge of the cot, completely exposed, completely theirs. “She’s soaking,” Bucky breathed. “Fucking hell- she’s dripping down her thighs.” The cool air kissed your slick folds and made you shiver. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, and fingers plunged into you- two, maybe three. You didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

Steve’s mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over the top curve of your breast before his lips closed around your nipple. You sobbed, your body already arching upward from the overload.

The blonde growled against your skin, one hand gripping your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to bow your spine upward. You gasped, helpless, writhing between them, your body trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re taking it so well,” Steve murmured, voice low and rough. “Just like that. Good girl.”

“Look at her,” Bucky snarled. “That’s it, sweetheart- ride my hand. Come on. Take what you need.”

His fingers worked deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the cot. His palm pressed against your clit with every motion, grinding you into the edge of bliss, holding you there with cruel precision. You could feel everything. Every ridge of his knuckles, every flex of his wrist. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You whimpered, your hands scrambling against the sheets, seeking something to hold onto as your body rocked with each relentless stroke. Steve bit gently at the underside of your jaw, his hand still twisted in your hair as he whispered praises that barely reached your ears over the rushing roar of need building inside you.

Steve’s mouth was on your chest again, sucking one nipple into the heat of his mouth while his hand massaged the other, groping you with a needy rhythm that only made it harder to breathe. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair again, gently tugging until your spine arched up off the cot, your body straining toward both of them.

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed into your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Your breath hitched, head tipping back as you let out a broken moan.

"OH FUCK." you cried, fingers clawing at the side of the cot, knuckles white.

He didn’t stop. His fingers pumped into you, slick and steady, coaxing the sound out of your throat again and again. You felt like you were vibrating- nerve endings lit up with fire, each touch sparking through you like electricity.

“You hear that, punk?” Bucky’s voice dripped with ego. “That’s the sound of my fingers making her cry.” Steve shifted beside you, sitting up to watch, his eyes locked on where Bucky's fingers slid in and out of you. One of his hands moved down, low and out of sight, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep control.

Bucky glanced back at him, grinning as he curled his fingers just right and made you cry out again.

"Look at her, Stevie," Bucky growled, his voice rough and ragged with arousal. He didn’t even look up, just watched his fingers slide in and out of you like it was the most important thing in the world. "She’s writhing just from my fingers. What happens when I put my cock in?"

"You’ll wait," Steve snapped, voice sharp, strained with barely checked control. He was flushed, jaw tight, clearly fighting the same battle Bucky was already losing.

"God, look at her," Bucky muttered again, breath coming faster. "Fuck, I want her mouth. I want every part."

You couldn’t answer. Your vision blurred. Every nerve in your body felt like it had snapped tight, vibrating with unbearable pressure.

And then it broke.

You came- hard.

Your whole body convulsed as the orgasm tore through you. Your legs kicked against the cot, arms flailing blindly for purchase. Steve had to hold you down, one hand braced across your chest, the other still tangled in your hair as your back arched and a strangled sob tore from your throat.

It didn’t end quickly. The drug made it last- your climax dragging on and on, crashing over you in waves so powerful they left you gasping, wrecked.

You felt Bucky’s fingers slow inside you, easing off just enough to let you ride it out without breaking. But they didn’t stop touching you. They didn’t let you go.

And worst of all, the haze in your head didn’t clear like you hoped it would.

You were still shaking. Still needy.

Still burning.

You were a panting mess, your skin still hot and your chest tight when one of them scooped you up and lay you out on the cool floor. The shock of it made you gasp, the chill a sudden relief against your fevered skin. You blinked your eyes open, dazed, limbs slack and breath ragged.

"You’re such a mess for us, baby," Bucky murmured, crouched above you now. His voice was low, ruined with hunger. "That sweet little body of yours wasn’t made to handle all this, was it?"

Your eyes found him- Bucky, kneeling near your face now, his cock hard and leaking, so close it blurred your thoughts. He looked feral, undone, lips parted like he was barely restraining himself.

Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips without thinking. The taste of your own sweat clung to your skin, but all you could focus on was him. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his fist clenched at his thigh.

Your mind narrowed to a single point of clarity.

You wanted him in your mouth.

You leaned forward slowly, licking the bead of precum off his tip before taking him in fully- hungry, needy, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him. Bucky’s breath stuttered, and he let out a ragged groan as your mouth sealed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not to guide but to anchor himself. “So fucking pretty like this- taking me so deep. Look at those lips- look at that mouth.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks to take him deeper, until your nose pressed against the base and he swore low under his breath.

“Messy little mouth,” Bucky panted. “So eager. You needed this, didn’t you? Needed something to suck while we ruin the rest of you.”

You were lost in it- the taste of him, the heat, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked just right. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with sloppy desperation, gagging slightly as you bobbed your head in a steady rhythm.

Just then, you felt Steve’s hands at your hips, steady and sure. He shifted your lower body, pulling your legs open and up until you were spread out for him on the floor.

“You liked Buck's fingers? Let’s see how you do on my cock,” Steve growled against your ear, his voice dark and thick with restraint.

You gasped around Bucky’s cock, the moan caught in your throat turning into a garbled sound of pleasure as Steve aligned himself behind you. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you wide as his tip pressed against your entrance- already slick, fluttering, aching.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lit up in electric spasms. Your muscles fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing as he stretched you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.

The pressure, the fullness, the stretch- it was overwhelming. You sobbed around Bucky, the vibration of your moan making him groan above you, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust.

Steve bottomed out with a hiss, his hands gripping tighter like he needed the anchor. Inside you, he throbbed, deep and perfect. You felt stretched to the edge of your limits, your inner walls fluttering in frantic spasms around him, struggling to adjust and clench all at once. Your body didn’t know what to do- pull him in deeper or push him out.

It was too much. It was everything. Your head was spinning.

They started to move- slow at first. Steve dragging back only to sink in again, deliberate, controlled, while Bucky’s cock bumped the back of your throat as he rocked forward with a groan. You gagged, whined, clung to them both with your mouth and body.

You were stuck in it now. The lust. The drug. The heat. There was no thought left, only sensation. Only how it felt to be stretched open in two directions, trembling and gasping.

They didn’t talk to you anymore. They talked about you.

“She’s so sensitive,” Bucky growled. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

Steve grunted, his pace picking up. “Tight as hell. She’s pulsing like she doesn’t know whether she wants to come or cry.”

You tried to moan but it came out a broken, garbled sound around Bucky’s cock. Your tongue dragged along the underside of him as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering as you swallowed around the stretch. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, tears tracking down your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of your head, not forcing, just holding you there, gazing down into your wet, dazed eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, look at you drooling all over me. You love it, don’t you?”

Your hips rocked back into Steve without meaning to as he thrust forward again, harder this time, grinding deep. Your nerves fired like sparks, the friction of his cock dragging against hypersensitive flesh sending bursts of pressure low in your belly. Your insides coiled, pleasure building with every thick, deliberate thrust, your body wound so tight it felt like you might snap apart.

“You’re doing so well for us,” Steve grunted, leaning down, his mouth hot at your ear. “Such a good girl, letting us use you like this.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, driving in deeper. The stretch made you cry out around Bucky’s cock, throat flexing as your moan turned to a sob.

"That's it," Steve growled, pace quickening. "Fuck, so fucking wet and warm... you gonna cum, sweetheart? Gotta feel you squeeze me while you swallow Bucky."

Your body arched, heat crashing through your spine as Steve hit that perfect spot again and again, each thrust sending a jolt through your core. Your throat tightened around Bucky's cock, the vibration of your desperate moans making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck- she’s so close,” Steve panted, driving harder. “You feel that? She’s fucking pulsing.”

You sobbed around Bucky, tears streaking your cheeks, the pressure in your belly a coil tightening with no escape.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Bucky panted, watching the way you writhed. “Look at how she’s trembling. She needs cock.”

And then it snapped.

Your climax hit like a bolt of lightning, seizing your body with white-hot tension as your inner walls clamped down around Steve’s cock. You wailed around Bucky’s length, the cry vibrating through him as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck, that mouth- ” Bucky growled, watching your teary eyes roll back. “I’m gonna- shit- ”

He spilled down your throat with a grunt, his cock twitching between your lips, his hand holding you steady as you swallowed every drop of him while he pulsed.

The clenching spasms of your climax milked Steve mercilessly, dragging his own orgasm from him with a ragged curse. He slammed in deep, staying buried as he came hard, filling you with warmth that only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“Take it,” he groaned, his breath broken against your shoulder. “Take it all. Good fucking girl.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling himself from your mouth with a wet pop, still hard, his cock glistening with your spit. “"Fuck... you’re unreal..." he panted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..pupils blown as he looked down at you.

Steve finally pulled out with a groan, the loss of him sudden and jarring, making you whimper. His cum followed, warm and slick as it dripped from your stretched pussy, pooling between your thighs.

His gaze dropped between your legs, transfixed. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he watched it leak from you, dripping down to your slick, twitching rim. Slowly, his fingers moved to your core, smearing the mess down lower, spreading it deliberately to your other entrance.

You gasped, twitching from aftershocks, your body still sensitive everywhere. His fingertip teased your tight hole, rubbing softly, slicking it with a practiced ease. You whimpered, already overwhelmed, but the moan that spilled from you was pure need.

“Damn, Stevie- you didn’t fuck her right if she’s still aching like this,” Bucky drawled, voice hoarse and edged with a smirk, watching the way your hips shifted restlessly on the floor.

You whimpered, the heat still rolling inside you, every nerve ending alive and twitching. The aftershocks made your muscles flutter, your body too sensitive and still so hungry. Steve didn’t bite back. He was too focused- his fingers slick with his own cum as he spread it lower, smearing it over your pussy and then circling your tight, twitching rim.

And then one thick finger pressed inward.

You gasped, whole body jolting, a broken sound catching in your throat as your body tried to clamp down instinctively. But Steve worked slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper, the stretch sharp and slow as he began to work you open.

You felt your core clench around nothing as Steve worked his finger deeper. “I need- please, I need more, I can’t- ” you gasped, voice trembling. Your head was a mess, fogged with lust and the aftershocks still sparking under your skin. Steve kept up the slow pump of his finger, pushing in deeper, working more of his cum into your ass to keep you slick and open.

“Hear that, Steve?” Bucky said, voice thick with amusement, already fisting his own cock in lazy, slow strokes. “She wants more.”

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, his finger sinking deeper, curling. You whimpered again.

“Can’t say no, can we?” Bucky added, grinning.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what our girl needs...” Steve muttered, voice thick with heat and control, as his hand disappeared between your thighs.

Steve pulled his finger from your ass just as Bucky got down onto the floor, reaching out to haul you up into his lap. Steve’s arms hooking under yours, supporting your limp, boneless body as they moved you together like you weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you on Buck now...” Steve purred near your ear, voice thick and smooth, a slow heat curling down your spine.

Bucky’s cock was already there- thick, hard, and waiting. They guided you together, Steve steadying you from behind while Bucky angled his cock to your entrance.

As Steve lowered you, your legs wrapped weakly around Bucky’s hips, and you felt the first stretch as his tip slid inside. A guttural groan ripped from Bucky’s throat, his hands tightening on your thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, voice rough and reverent. “You always take me so damn good. Still so fucking tight- even after Steve blew you open? Shit.”

“That’s a girl,” Steve murmured, voice low with praise. “Nice and slow... Want you to feel every inch of him, don’t you?”

You just whimpered and nodded, the need to be filled consuming, overwhelming, as the pair of them helped you sink down onto Bucky’s cock, inch by perfect inch.

Your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder as you settled fully onto Bucky, who thrust up into you with steady pressure. The heat and stretch made your whole body tremble. You could barely breathe, still twitching from your earlier climax. Then Bucky's hands gripped your hips tight.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips rolling upward as he began to move you, guiding you into a rhythm. “Look at you. Still aching. Like how I feel doll?”

The moan that spilled from your mouth didn’t even sound like you anymore- wrecked, raw, and desperate.

You were unraveling under Bucky’s rhythm- the way he filled you had your mind slipping, your thoughts scattering with every deep, slow thrust, how every thrust hit deep, high inside, brushing against that spot that made you shudder. Your head lolled back onto Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering, lips parted around desperate little gasps.

“She bites her lip when I go deep. You see that?” Bucky said with a rough chuckle, voice wrecked but smug. “She likes my rhythm.”

You didn’t even notice the way Steve bent you forward over Bucky, hands guiding your body like you were something precious and fragile and already ruined.

You didn’t have time to think too much before you felt Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open as Steve shifted behind you. It wasn’t until the thick, spongy head of his cock pressed against somewhere you’d never let anyone touch that your eyes snapped open in surprise.

The first inch pushed into your ass slowly, carefully, but it still stole your breath.

“It’s too much- I can’t- wait- ” you gasped, voice cracking with overwhelmed panic as your body instinctively tried to jerk away.

But Bucky rocked his hips upward, pushing deep into your pussy again, and the shockwave of pleasure was enough to paralyze your resistance.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Steve murmured, arms wrapping around you from behind as he continued to press in. His voice was thick and coaxing, his control iron-tight. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good for us.”

You sobbed, your whole body fluttering around them as Steve sank in deeper, the thin wall between your holes trembling with every inch he took. The two of them groaned in unison, voices rough and reverent as they filled you together.

You were caught between them now. Two super soldiers, all three of you lost in lust and need. Your face twisted with sensation as they held you there- one thick cock filling your pussy, the other spreading your ass open inch by inch. Both sunk to the hilt. You were impossibly full. You were shaking. Overwhelmed. Unable to process the stretch, the heat, the drag of their bodies inside you. It was too much. And you needed more.

“You’re both so… big- I’m gonna- fuck- ” you sobbed. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you’d become- how just being filled, just being stretched, could reduce you to this. You weren’t even moving, yet your body was already bracing to come undone again. There was no going back. No holding on. Just surrender.

You came without moving, the sensation of fullness alone tipping you over. Your body seized in the middle, core clenching violently, squeezing down on both of them at once as pleasure ripped through you like a lightning bolt.

Your voice cracked into a scream. You were gone- shaking, convulsing, burning from the inside out as your orgasm dragged through you with devastating force.

Both of them groaned at the way your body squeezed them- tight and hot and trembling.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, rocking his hips once more. “Didn’t even have to move. Just had to be inside you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, voice low and wrecked in your ear. “She’s that sensitive. That fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your lips parted in a silent gasp as Steve’s hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your stiff nipples as he started to move again. Slowly at first, easing back before pressing forward, dragging against that thin wall with every thick stroke.

Bucky's grip returned to your hips, steady and possessive, guiding you to rise and fall on his cock. Your body jolted with every motion, your moans soft and slurred.

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, hips snapping gently. “We’ll start slow…”

“I-I can’t- ” you whimpered, but your body was already moving, driven by instinct and need.

“I know you can take more,” he murmured. “Look how beautiful you are when you come apart. It'll feel better- just gotta keep going.”

And it did. It felt better than the denial. Better than the ache that came from holding back. The pleasure rolled through you like a drug, heavy and all-consuming.

Your hips started to move again, slowly grinding into Bucky as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t know if it was need or instinct- maybe both- but you couldn’t stop. You were cock-drunk. Barely aware of anything except how good it felt to be filled this way.

“Breathe,” Steve whispered. “Just like that. Hold it- good girl.”

Then Steve pulled your hips back into him and pressed all the way in.

“You think you’re fucking her deep?” Steve growled at Bucky, voice low and wild. “Watch this.”

Bucky shoved his hand flat to your lower stomach and lifted his hips with a brutal thrust. You cried out, the stretch making your eyes roll back as he ground up into you. It was obscene how deep he reached, how thick he felt. You pawed at his chest, clinging to him with trembling fingers.

“..fuck fuck fuck...” you gasped, the breath knocked out of you before he eased his hips again, smug and steady.

“Told ya,” Bucky muttered with a grin.

But it didn’t stop there.

Bucky answered your gasps with harder thrusts. Steve listened for his name and answered with praise. His mouth latched to your neck, nipping and licking along your skin as he squeezed your breasts roughly, molding them in his palms.

“Did you hear that one? That was mine,” Steve muttered against your skin when you gasped his name.

Bucky answered with a sharp thrust that made your breath catch. “She moaned louder for me, sweetheart. Don’t get cocky.”

Each of them was locked into the game- testing reactions, adjusting pace, trying to claim the sounds that spilled from your lips. One made you cry out, the other drew a gasp. They used your body like a live wire for their competition, and you were helpless in the storm.

“She whimpers when I kiss her right here,” he growled, biting just beneath your ear.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips tighter, fucking up into you hard enough to rock you against Steve’s chest. “She clenched around me when you said that,” he rasped. “Bet she’s trying to pick a favourite.”

You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think. You only managed to gasp whatever name escaped your lips first, and they both heard it- every time. And they responded with sharper thrusts, filthier praise.

“You’re so cock-drunk, you don’t even know who’s making you come anymore, do you?” Bucky said, voice rough.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, licking the sweat off your throat. “All wrecked. All ours.”

Then Bucky’s metal hand slid between your thighs again. His fingers brushed your clit, the coolness of steel a shocking chill of metal against your heat made you jolt, gasping as sparks danced up your spine.

“Oh- god - fuck- ” you sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as sparks shot up your spine.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered again. “Just like that. That’s our girl.”

They started to move faster now- driving into you in sync, pistoning in perfect rhythm. The slap of skin echoed, the slick sounds of your soaked cunt and the obscene wet pressure of being filled from both ends breaking whatever was left of your mind.

“You want to make her come, punk?” Bucky growled. “You gotta fuck her harder than that.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve snarled, thrusting harder. “We don’t need to break her. Just ruin her a little longer.”

“She’s shaking so bad. You keep her steady, Steve- I wanna see her face when she comes again.”

Your next orgasm ripped through you with a small wail, your features contorting as your body locked up tight. You clawed at them both- gripping Steve’s forearm, Bucky’s shoulder- as your walls fluttered around their cocks, milking them, begging for more without a word.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down. Steve groaned, his thrusts picking up as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Bucky cursed, gripping your hips tighter, lifting and dropping you into him with growing urgency.

You felt them both losing control- felt their restraint slipping with every second you squeezed around them, heat and slickness pouring down your thighs.

“Fuck- fuck, she’s doing it again,” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “She wants it. She’s not done. Not till we are.”

Then the pace shifted- harder, rougher, deeper. Their moans grew louder, matched only by the slap of skin on skin. Your head spun, your vision blurred.

And then they were coming again- Steve first, pulled tight to your back, his groan muffled in your shoulder. Then Bucky, buried deep beneath you, eyes locked on yours as he spilled inside you with a strangled moan.

You collapsed between them, limp and boneless, your body a trembling wreck held up only by their hands. You didn’t even try to move. There was no fight left in you- only the slow hum of satisfaction and overstimulation. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, a flicker of disbelief passed through you- how had you endured that? How had you survived the storm of them inside you? But there was no room for shame or second thoughts. Only surrender. And the quiet, overwhelming hum of being utterly, deliciously wrecked. You were too dazed to understand what was happening at first, the haze still thick behind your eyes. The humming under your skin hadn’t stopped, but it had dulled- muted to a low thrum that echoed in your bones. They were careful, even if your overstimulated body didn’t register it that way.

You whined, squirming, as they slowly pulled out of you. The stretch reversed, the heat slipping away, leaving you empty and raw. It wasn’t pain, but your body protested the loss with soft whimpers.

Someone pressed a water bottle to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You obeyed without thought, the coolness trickling down your throat a small mercy.

Another set of hands gently wiped you down. A cold, damp cloth slid between your legs, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.

Then your head was lowered into someone’s lap. Fingers carded through your hair.

“You did so well,” Steve murmured. “Look at you- perfect.”

You blinked slowly. Steve’s voice again, closer now: “Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your limbs twitched weakly, still responding to phantom pleasure. A quiet laugh came from Bucky.

“Still twitching. Still fucking gorgeous.”

You felt him kissing up your leg, mouth trailing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh.

Then your legs were being moved again- lifted, spread with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the earlier frenzy. There was no rush now, no urgency- just the soft reverence of Bucky's hands as he cradled your thighs like something precious, something breakable, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you minutes ago. You blinked, barely aware, as Bucky settled himself between them, laying flat, his breath hot against your oversensitive core.

He pressed a kiss there, soft and reverent, and your whole body jolted in response.

“And I’m not done tasting her,” he muttered, voice thick with need.

“Buck- she needs to recover,” Steve warned again, but his voice had softened to something indulgent.

“I’ll be gentle…” Bucky promised, his mouth already lowering, tongue dragging slow and careful over your aching folds as your head lolled back into Steve lap, eyes fluttering closed, lost to the warmth and the wetness and the impossible pleasure building again

TAGS: @buckybarnesfic, @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

6K notes · View notes